


Go to Mine and I'll Go to Yours

by Panthersmeow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John Watson, Bottom Sherlock, D/s, Dom!John, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, sub!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2335877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panthersmeow/pseuds/Panthersmeow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is invited to a university reunion with a possible case attached. However university was a hard time for him with bullying among other things, because of this John invites himself along as his date. </p><p>John has his own military reunion which he is also nervous about. If he asked him, would Sherlock go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is my first fic ever. I've finally said 'fuck it' and decided to push past my dyslexia and just put something out there. So I'm sorry in advance for the mistakes. I'm always willing to hear feedback and ways my writing can improve.

 

 

Sherlock hated school reunions. He loathed the idea of having to see the people that made his time at university more challenging than it truly had to be. Sure he may not have been the most pleasant of people but he had made efforts. He had tried to establish relationships by being polite, asking questions and feigning some sort of interest. His peers on the other hand didn't take well to him. Either they didn't think he was being genuine, or maybe he was just that unlikable. Sherlock resented how he would still think back to the rejections and the teasing. In his youth he would fight back by just not dealing with those emotions, lashing out, purposefully isolating himself. Come to think of it. This was still his defense mechanism.

He sighed as he sat in his chair, flipping the invitation in his hand. A generic invitation for a reunion. On one side the address, time, the level of formality and the stated expectation that each person has to bring their partner. The other side was the university logo. Scrolled in pen over the logo were the words in decent handwriting: 'Doubt anyone can put up with you. So don't worry your virginal self about bringing a plus one. No one expects you to. Don't bitch out. - James' 

He would never usually consider going. But this was different, it had come to his attention that someone from his graduating class might be a suspect in an East London homicide. And being the show-off that he was, and the level of holes in the information Mycroft had sent him about the case, it had definitely peaked his interest.

"Tea?" John asked peering over his paper. 

"What?" Sherlock looked up from his invitation irritably.

"Would you like some Tea? I'm making some." John repeated. He stared at Sherlock in annoyance, glancing at the invitation in the detective's hand. "Whats that? It's got you more distracted than usual."

Sherlock tutted and rolled his eyes as John stood. "I'm never distracted!" he said as if it were a dirty word. "I'm just busy thinking. You should try it once in a while. And yes. Tea please." He rose to his feet and followed John, placing the card down on the kitchen table with a little more force than he had intended. John raised his eyebrows irritably as he fetched the mugs.

"Going to tell me what the paper is?" John questioned with a head nod as he turned on the kettle and placed tea bags in mugs. 

"A possible case."

"Usually you look more excited about having a case on. Especially since it's been so quiet."

Sherlock didn't respond. He walked past John letting their bodies brush slightly as he leaned up to open a high cupboard and grabbed a couple of petri dishes then moving to sit at his microscope. They've gotten used to being in close proximity to each other. After Sherlock had come back John had been more outwardly affectionate, letting his touches linger. Sherlock reciprocated, he didn't mind it all that much. The two years he had spent away really made him realise how starved of contact he truly was and he had missed John. And if touching was what John needed to get used to him again (to trust him) then he would give it and take it. John had also become more protective. Had become more assertive with him. Expected to always know where he was. Sherlock assumed it was all due to an irrational fear John must have of losing him again. However Sherlock had no intension of going anywhere. 

John set the mug down beside him with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Sherlock murmured a hasty 'Thanks' and sipped the hot drink without leaving the task at hand. Furiously fiddling with his microscope.

John sat opposite him taking a much too hot swig of his tea as he picked up the invitation. His eyebrows shot up as he turned the card to read the message James had left Sherlock. 

"What's with this?" The doctor's voice was tight.

"You've already asked me that."

"You know what I mean Sherlock. You said this was a case. This is a reunion invitation for your university."

The taller man let out a bored sigh as he looked up from his microscope flashing John his best 'why is everyone around me stupid' face. "Mycroft has notified me of a high profile homicide in East London. It has to maintain under wraps. I don't think Lestrade knows about it quite yet. From the information that Mycroft has sent me, this killer graduated in my year at the same university. The person is suspected to be from a wealthy family, runs in high circles, a social butterfly of sorts."

"Alright," John nodded turning the card so that the handwriting was facing Sherlock. "So who's this arse-hole, 'James'?" his fingers tapped on the handwritten note impatiently.

"A peer." Sherlock looked away from John. The army doctor's gaze had become intense and slightly aggressive. Sherlock knew it wasn't directed at him but he felt like he couldn't maintain in it's intensity. Sherlock looked down at the petri dish, fiddling slightly with it and went back to looking into the microscope. 

"No, no Sherlock." John spoke as he reached out to touch Sherlock's hand that twisted the dial gently with the tips of his fingers. "I want to know more about this 'James'. I want to know if you're going to go." He demanded quietly.

The detective was hesitant but looked up slowly. "James and I didn't quite get along. He and his friends were less than nice, and made university less than enjoyable for me." Sherlock's tone was blasé.

"So he bullied you?"

"Bullied? How pedestrian." The detective scoffed, switching between dishes.  

John let out a breath as he noticed his grip on the invitation was tighter than he had intended, wrinkling the card.

"So are you going?"

"I guess. It is a case after all." The tall man shrugged as he fiddled with the knob on the visor.

John downed his tea and stood abruptly, letting go of the invitation as if it were on fire. He cleared his throat and squared off his shoulders. His posture more military than doctor. 

"I'm coming with you then."

"What?" Sherlock looked up inspecting John's face.

"I'll be your 'date'. It's not like we haven't done the whole boyfriend thing before." John said with a shrug but his tone was final. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind me bringing my gun. And I definitely want to meet this 'James' in person."

Sherlock was quiet in thought. If he and John were to pretend to be together he could bypass all the social police types and be able to fit in to the circles that the possible murderer had been know to run in. Sure he could manipulate them all into eventually warming up to him, but it would be a bigger risk. They knew him. They had met him and seen his techniques from when he was young and unpolished. Would they pick up on it now? He would be better received if he came off as if he had changed, or at least partially changed. Settled down with his army doctor. A strong man of nurture and discipline. John could be a distraction, a great mask to their memory of him. 

"Alright." Sherlock nodded slowly as he saw John's jaw unclench in a release of tension. Was he nervous? Plucking his mobile from his pocket the detective texted furiously and spoke. "I'll send a message to my tailor to make you a fresh suit."

John walked back to his chair and picked up the paper. "I already have a suit Sherlock."

"It's not the right kind of suit."

"What kind of suit is the right kind?" John questioned exasperated. 

"A better one."

"It's worked fine in the past."

Sherlock finished his text and made his way to the violin. Plucking lightly at the strings as he looked at John.

"You have a single old suit, John. The style is out dated and it doesn't fit you properly." Sherlock explained as if it were a chore. Smirking he added, "You've also lost weight while I've been gone yet you've bulked. Never considered you to be a gym kind of man, but hey ho."

John flushed slightly. He had been going to the gym. He really just did it as a detraction and a way to keep violent energy at bay. Mostly a means to an end. His therapist had diagnosed him with anger issues. But bloody talking about it wasn't doing the trick anymore. He needed to hit something. Be in control of something in his life. As opposed to the spiraling mess Sherlock bloody Holmes had left him with.

"Fine. Fucking fine." Sighing he hid behind his paper. "Just play your bloody violin and shut up." he said with an embarrassed laugh.

Sherlock smirked bringing the instrument to his chin as he turned to look out the window. 

Tomorrow would be interesting. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the nice comments. Don't worry this won't be a one shot. I have up until chapter 5 planned out already. 
> 
> This one is a bit longer, though I did write most of it on my phone so I hope there are no weird typos and spellchecker blunders.
> 
> My tumblr is the same username I have here in case anyone is interested.

The next day John found himself sporting a new hair cut which looked just as military as his last. He had also become the owner of a brand new suit that fitted him perfectly and had a price tag to match. Sherlock (the owner of many suits) of course had to get a brand new one for the occasion. He decided not to question the detective on how he knew his measurements, though it still thrilled him slightly that Sherlock was paying close enough attention.

The uni reunion was in Dorset at a hotel Sherlock's classmate Ria Wells had acquired in the area. Sherlock had refused to take a train south and asked that John rent them a car for the weekend. Grumbling about the colossal spend of money this was all turning out to be, he picked up the car.

They were packed and ready by 3:30pm. The car journey was smooth with the exception of a bit of rain, but then again it was England they wouldn't have expected any less.

John pulled up and stepped out to unload all their bags. Sherlock was still faffing about with his phone in the car. The shorter man placed the luggage next to the car and opened the passenger door. Sherlock looked up at him with a raised eye brow.

"You expecting me to open car doors for you now, dear?" He said humorously shaking his head with a smirk.

Sherlock chuckled and made a dramatic exit of the car, closing the door behind him in the most camp swoop he could muster. Sherlock gave him a playful wink and a single shoulder shrug as John stared at this over-the-top display of 'gayness' rolling his eyes.

"How stereotypical are we going to be this time?" he questioned as he handed Sherlock his case and garment bag. The detective laughed as he shook his head.

"I just wanted to see you make the face you do when I over camp it up." Sherlock smirked as they began walking to the entrance of the hotel. "Plus they all know me, so I couldn't act out of character. Unfortunately I have to just be myself. Or at least a more mellow polite version.

"Polite!?" John snorted "As if you could manage that."

 

 

The hotel was cozy and warm. John peeked into the hall for the event. Decorated in some abysmal university colours. Logos plastered all over the walls and a DJ setting up in the corner of the room. And to his absolute delight a bar was being stocked. He sighed with relief, if there was one thing he would need this evening, it would be a scotch.

Sherlock walked off curiously as usual, leaving his bags at the counter next to John's. The busty young woman behind the bar smiled at the army doctor flirtatiously.

"Hello there sir, have you booked in a reservation for the reunion?"

"Ah yes. There should be a reservation for Watson-Holmes?" Sherlock had insisted they do the double barrel thing. Claiming that even if they weren't married it would instill a more long term feel to their relationship.

"Alright sir." She typed loudly on the keyboard and beamed back up at him. "That is a king size suite. Let me just grab the key cards for you."

Sherlock suddenly appeared beside him after his walkabout, placing a hand on the shorter man's upper back to get his attention. John had jumped slightly at Sherlock's sudden appearance and turned to look up at his face. The doctor was slightly taken aback when he saw Sherlock shoot a less than friendly glance at the young woman. John smiled up at the taller man. He wasn't sure if this was Sherlock playing the game, or if this was the detective being jealous of the young woman's flirtatious looks at John.

"John, a few people are already here. Apparently some of them came yesterday. Some sort of car show was happening in the village near by. I haven't seen anyone whome I would consider a suspect as of yet." Sherlock had leaned close to John's ear pointedly as the desk lady approached.

"Here are your keys. I've got one for each of you gentlemen. Your room is on the 4th floor. Number 415..." The pretty clerk's tone had changed to a more professional distant one as she glanced between them. She placed the cards on the counter and John pocketed them quickly before Sherlock began deducing the woman out loud.

"Cheers."  The army doctor smiled politely while slowly tugging a grumpy Sherlock in the directions of the elevator.

"What is with you today?" He whispered.

"I just thought she was being unprofessional, flirting with a client." Sherlock muttered as he pretended to flick lint off of his coat covered arm. Despite being right next to the numbers he didn't push the button. John tutting reached across and pressed it for him. They were silent on the way up, Sherlock was on the edge of a potential sulk.

The detective unlocked the room door and held it open for John who quickly hung his suit up. Sherlock inspected the bathroom. It was a steam room with an open shower and a huge bathtub. Two sinks and a toilet.

"Did you get us some sort of fancy honey moon suite Sherlock? Because this is nice. Real nice." John spoke from the door of the bathroom peaking his head round the frame.

"All the best for you John." The detective mocked, smirking at John staring at the huge tub.

"Are you insinuating that I'm being common?"

"Yes."

"Prat."

Sherlock smiled at the name calling as he saw John go back into the bedroom. He had missed this so much. Their bickering and banter. The way John made him tea. The firm hand on his back or shoulder. The praise. Oh how he loved the praise.

Sherlock stared at himself in the mirror shaking his head at the slight flush on his cheeks walking out to the bedroom.

"How did you get these suits made so quickly Sherlock? You only texted the bloody tailors yesterday." The short man spoke as he took his suit out of the garment bag inspecting it.

"I had a few suits made for you in advance just in case. All I had to do was text your updated measurements." Sherlock said as a matter of fact.

"I guess most people would think it presumptuous or forwards of you to assume what I like. Though I'm just amazed at the deductions of my size and tastes you've made. I really like this cut." John spoke as he took the hanger and began walking to the bathroom with his toiletries bag. "Brilliant as usual"

Sherlock felt a little thrill at the praise but acted as if it bored him. Though he wasn't as convincing as he had thought because John must have seen through it when he beamed back at him.

"I just know what you like John. You aren't particularly adventurous in your style so it wasn't hard." The detective shrugged and waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Also I have impeccable taste." He added.

John laughed when Sherlock let out a sigh of self amazement as he closed the bathroom door.

John showered and suited up. He inspected himself in the mirror and grinned. John wasn't usually the kind of man who would boast or anything but he knew he looked good. There was no denying. The suit fit him perfectly. He looked broad yet cut and masculine. Much like how he looked back in the army. He looked slightly dangerous. The army doctor pondered for a moment if Sherlock's intention was to make him look more military. Come to think of it the cut of this suit was similar to the formal uniforms he would wear. And it was as blue, which Sherlock always liked on him. John smirked at himself in the mirror.

Sherlock may think that John was incapable of making observations or deductions of his own, but one thing John had noticed in Sherlock was his interest in military uniforms. John mused as he remembered Baskerville, and how his pulling rank made Sherlock act slightly differently with him after that. Almost subdued and more pliant. Almost. This was Sherlock we were talking about.

John chuckled to himself as he thought about the juxtaposition of personalities within Sherlock. Always bossing everyone about, but John could see his appreciation for praises, and when John spoke sternly. The doctor tried not to over think these things. He just chalked it up as an endearing feature with the detective and moved on.

Brushing at his shoulder a he left the bathroom feeling confident and ready for whatever terrors the evening would bring.

John walked into the bedroom to find Sherlock standing at the foot of the bed, tapping his bottom lip with John's gun in thought. Eyes closed.

He felt his heart stutter with surprise. In a sudden surge of shock and rage John dropped his toiletries bag and made a running tackle to a startled Sherlock who gasped as he felt his hand being disarmed and his body hitting the bed with a weight on top of him.

Sherlock winced as his hands were being pinned above his head in a vice grip. John pinning him down with his body weight.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing Sherlock!?" John shouted down at the detective whose eyes were wide and surprised. The taller man turned his head stubbornly as he tried to pull his hands out of the grip.

"Oh please John. You really don't think I was going to kill myself did you?" John's grip on sherlocks thin wrists tightened as he released one hand to grab at Sherlock's jaw and forcibly turn his face to look at him. The detective shifted uncomfortably below him but complied. Letting his face be turned to John.

"You know I don't like you using my gun without permission." John said firmly trying not to shout but his voice was loud and stern. John released Sherlock's jaw and reached for the gun that had fallen onto the bed next to them. Not noticing Sherlock's shiver at the turn of phrase. He checked to see if it was loaded, which it was, John growled slightly as he removed the clip with one hand letting it fall to the mattress.

"Do you really think I'm stupid enough to shoot myself in the face John?" Sherlock said petulantly.

John pinched the bridge of his nose before his free hand went back to Sherlocks jaw.

"You will not touch my gun unless you're in danger. Do you hear me?" John's voice had gotten low and dangerous.

He  refused to lose Sherlock again. In reality he didn't think the detective would shoot himself. Nor did he think he was clumsy enough to accidentally do so. However shooting at things, pointing it at the wall, all felt ok. But this was too close for John. Definitely a boundary being crossed. The doctor didn't want to take any chances.

Sherlock just stared up at John with what looked like a slightly defiant look in his eyes, yet the beginning of a pout had begun to blossom on his lips.

"Answer me Sherlock!" John shook him slightly.

"Yes John! I hear you!" Sherlock almost shouted feeling his face become flush.

They stayed like that for a moment before Sherlock spoke quietly. His tone was subdued and non sarcastic as he looked into John's eyes searching for something.

"I'm sorry." The detective dropped his gaze. A stinge of the what felt like guilt fluttered in his chest. "But... You're hurting me..." It was almost a whisper.

John quickly released Sherlock's wrist and jaw sitting up while straddling the taller man's waist.

"I... I'm sorry. My intention was not to hurt you. You just... surprised me." John cleared his throat as he got off of the taller man. He shakily patted down his suit and straightened his expensive jacket.

Sherlock didn't move and just stared. John felt unnerved by the eyes boring into the back of his head as he walked to pick up his toiletries bag. Placing it on the desk with a mirror, he checked himself in it.

From the corner of his eye he could see Sherlock's reflection. He had moved to sit on his knees on the bed. John had to avoid staring back as he had a sudden image of Sherlock on his knees in front of him after being told off, spring into his mind. He shook his head and gave himself a once over.

"So if I have permission I can use your gun?" John turned around at the choice of words Sherlock had used. This phrasing and Sherlock's demeanour had reminded him of a couple of his less conventional relationship dynamics in the past. He swallowed thickly.

"Yes," He replied as he raised an eyebrow. Sherlock eyes flicked down to the disarmed gun on the bedspread and back up to John's.

"So do I?" Sherlock cleared his throat, "have permission I mean."

John tried not to choke on his own saliva as the sentence made his mouth water. "No you don't." He ended.

Sherlock let out a loud sigh as he stood in a mock strop.

"Fine. Fine." He said exasperated. He walked past John, grabbing his garment bag, his toiletries and disappeared into the bathroom closing the door firmly.

 

John let out a long breath out of his lungs. When was he holding his breath?

He rubbed his face vigorously as he picked up his dismantled gun from the bed. Putting the clip in, he hid it beneith his jacket checking himself over in the mirror to make sure it wasn't noticeable.

He hated the idea of Sherlock holding a loaded weapon to his head. Not only did it turn his stomach on the case for Sherlock's safety but it reminded him of when he had first come back from Afganistan. He didn't know why he kept the gun. Safety, maybe suicide. At different moments it alternated between the two. Rubbing his eyes he sighed, if he had picked any method of offing himself it would have been a shot to the head. Maybe he over reacted. Sherlock surely didn't know about this part of him did he?

He needed a drink. No he needed two. At least.

 

 

After 20 minutes of playing on his phone and checking blog hits and he calming down, Sherlock emerged from the bathroom.

John disguised a small noise of appreciation with a cough. He  couldn't take his eyes off of the dark suit and purple undershirt and dark tie. It was tight and fitted. It made the detective look almost feline in its slim cut. Sherlock's hair was done in his usual style but it was shiny and had slightly more defined waves. John stood and couldn't help but drag his eyes up and down the taller mans body. Sherlock took this time of Johns ogling to take in the image of the army doctor himself. He looked strong and masculine. Sherlock felt that the military style cut for the suit really worked well with John.

"You. Um..." John spoke first. "You look good." He nodded.

"As do you." Sherlock flashed him a genuine smile.

They both shuffled slightly awkwardly in their place as the vibe between them felt different. This didn't feel like the usual compliments. The mood was charged.

"It starts at 8. Though I like being fashionably late." Sherlock broke the silence.

"It's 8:30." John checked his watch and looked up at Sherlock with a grin. "This fashionable enough for you?"

"Just about." Sherlock laughed as he opened the door for John.

"I think we should go to the bar and get drinks first. Not the bar inside the hall. The one near the entrance I want to watch people as they come in."

"Yeah alright." John nodded as he handed Sherlock his own card key.

"So the usual set up?" The doctor asked questioning the level of 'relationship' they should be displaying.

"Yes the usual." Sherlock whispered as they heard a door two rooms down click open.

John stood beside Sherlock and gave him his arm. The detective didn't hesitate and linked his through. John glanced up at Sherlock. There was an expression on his face that John had not seen before in this context. Sherlock looked nervous. John tugged him gently as they descended the stairs.

"Don't be nervous." Sherlock looked at him scandalised as they turned into a moderately busy bar area separate from the hall.

"I am not nervous!" He spat.

"'Course not."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for all the hits and the kind comments. Sorted out the chapter issue so you guys know this isn't a oneshot. Typical noob fanfictioner. 
> 
> Just as a warning, I have been extra bored lately and been able to smash out chapters ever day or so. This may slow down a bit with my RL busying up. However rest assured that I will finish this. 
> 
> Wish I had someone to proof read IRL but none of my friends are the tumblr, fanfiction sort. Except for one, but she only reads Star Trek fanfiction. So apologies for anything weird in advance. 
> 
> Hope you like this one.

"What would you like to drink, John?" Sherlock asked as he let go of John's arm gently stroking his hand up to rest on a firm shoulder.

"A double Laphroaig please, love." John said with a smile trying not to stare while Sherlock walked towards the bar.

Sherlock always did this. He always got their drinks when they played relationship. Sherlock would do this to suss out the people at the bar. John supposed it was a good idea. Many a drunk has unloaded their life problems on an unsuspecting bar staff. Though John also noticed that Sherlock played slightly passive when they took on these roles. After questioning it John received an eye roll of the century, while Sherlock said in his petulant tone that it was obviously him trying to divert attention from himself to John so that he could deduce in peace. As solid as that logic might have been John wasn't fully convinced. The doctor had noticed their fake relationships take this kind of turn after John had pulled rank. Or at least he thought so. John didn't mind all that much. He actually quite liked it.

Glancing around the bar area he could see well dressed people slowly streaming in. The atmosphere began to take a nostalgic tone when he would catch people talking about 'the good old days' or 'being on the rowing team'.

He looked back at Sherlock who was holding both of their drinks, while talking to a small dark haired woman in a dark green knee length dress. She was being friendly from her body language but there was concern on her face. Sherlock looked stiff. John approached slowly much like one would a stray cat caught in the rain. He began eavesdropping on their conversation. John would usually feel guilty for doing this to anyone, but this was Sherlock. Mr. no personal space and boundaries.

"Oh Sherlock, aren't you nervous about seeing Victor? I heard from Rachelle that he'll be coming." The lady's voice traveled far enough for John to hear.

"No, why would I be nervous?" Sherlock said in the least impolite way he could muster. John could tell he was getting wound up.

"Well, with everything that happened between the two of you. Everyone was talking about it." She spoke in an attempted hush.

"I... It isn't any of -"

"Sherlock! There you are." John interjected in an attempt to defuse the situation. The doctor was ready to see Sherlock deduce a cheating spouse, or an alcoholic daughter any time now.

Sherlock blinked a few times, regaining his composure. John watched as his face contorted back into the false smile he would put on for the clients.

"John!" Sherlock announced handing the shorter man his drink. "Here is your scotch. Let me introduce you to an old classmate of mine. This is Eleanor. Eleanor this is-"

"Dr. John Watson," John cut in holding his hand out. Eleanor shook it with a confused smile as she stared between them. "Partner." John added.

Eleanor's eyes widened and she looked up at Sherlock who was glancing at John over his glass while he sipped a gin and tonic.

"Partner huh? Who would have thought!" Her surprise apparent.

John raised an eyebrow at her in question as he sipped his scotch turning it around in his glass. Eleanor took the expression on John's face as a demand for an explanation to her surprise.

"Oh, well you know how he is," She explained, "I mean, how he used to be at least. Very much the, uh... lone wolf."

"People change Eleanor." Sherlock spoke not really looking at her but behind her as a man with a wardrobe that could only be described as Essex approached. "How's the marriage?"

The man placed a hand on her waist and she jumped slightly, "Oh! Hah, speak of the devil!" She patted a hand on his suited chest. "This is Carl and we're good thank you."

Carl flashed them a veneer smile as his hand ran through his short on the sides, long on the top traditional local hair cut.

"Are you blokes the ones off the papers? Who solve mysteries and that?" Carl's voice was already grating on Sherlock's nerves.

"Yep that's us." John spoke up.

"So you lot are actually together together then? Thought those were just rumours." He asked boldly, though some would consider it more rudely. Which is definitely what John thought it to be.

"Carl!" Eleanor scolded lightly, play slapping his arm.

"Yes happily together together." Sherlock contorted his face into what must have been something like a grin.

John nodded into his glass and murmured, "Very happy, yeah."

"How many dead bodies do you think you've seen?" Carl questioned genuinely. Eleanor flushed in embarrassment.

"You can't ask these sorts of questions Carl!" Eleanor told him as she took a step away from them. "Lets go get you a drink ok?"

Carl nodded stupidly, "Gotta keep the missus happy right?" He winked at John who snorted glancing up at Sherlock with a grin and a raised brow. The detective huffed in response. Eleanor and Carl gave a little wave and walked in the direction of the hall.

"So how's the mysteries and that?" John grinned.

"Good innit." They both laughed together, standing closer to each other.

"Is he from your university too?" John teased as he gave Sherlock his arm. Sherlock took it without a second thought. Laughing he shook his head and spoke.

"He obviously studied sports science. Which my university never had."

"Obviously." The doctor nodded as if it were written on Carl's face.

They walked arm in arm into the hall. It was quite busy already. Music played quietly while people chatted and hugged. Sherlock instantly searches the room for anyone who could be a possible suspect. A socialite would usually be in the middle of big groups leading conversation. Someone who lived in London. A person brought up in wealth with probably only wealthy friends too. Sherlock steered them into the patio area outside two open doors so he could look over the crowd from a different angle. It was pretty empty out there with the exception of a few smokers.

John looked up at Sherlock curiously. Who was this Victor person? Why was Eleanor so concerned. Or at least feigning concern. The doctor downed the rest of his drink. Clearing his throat he lifted his hand to place over Sherlock's on his arm. John felt a bit strange at how intimate the touch felt. Sherlock looked down and smiled slightly.

"Hey Sherlock. I overheard you and Eleanor talking-"

"You eavesdropped on my conversation John?" Sherlock interjected asking in fake horror.

John shot him a playfully dirty look. "You should be the absolute last person to accuse me of anything." Sherlock laughed as he drank the rest of his drink. Placing the cup on the patio rail.

"Who's this Victo-" John was interrupted by a voice booming across the outdoor area.

"Oi, Holmes!"

They both stopped when they heard Sherlock's name being called out from beside them. The man came over followed by a slightly taller man who was probably as tall if not a bit taller than Sherlock. John felt the detective's body tense up and his arm tightening it's loop on John's as he saw them approach. The shorter man who led the other, was attractive but sour looking. The taller man held his nose high and a permanent smirk

The shorter of the two spoke again.

"William Holmes! How's things Billy?" He sneered. John found it a bit jarring when people called Sherlock by his first name. Made him feel uncomfortable knowing how much Sherlock hated it.

"James." Sherlock acknowledged. "Surprised you could muster enough neurons to organise something as complicated as party invites. And please, Sherlock is fine." he spoke in a bored tone, but John could feel it waver.

John let out a small laugh out of his nose and took a drink. So this was James. He held James' gaze and lifted his chin. He was ready.

"Who's this?" James spoke to John directly.

"Dr. John Watson." John said tightly before Sherlock could answer. "I would say it was a pleasure but it really isn't. At least not so far."

James half laughed and looked up at Sherlock who was silent. "Alright settle down John-"

"It's Doctor Watson to you thanks." the doctor remarked irritated.

Sherlock just stared at James. John glanced up at him and unhooked their arms. He let his hand rest on the small of Sherlock's back.

"Got yourself your own doctor Sherlock? If you were anyone else I would have said that you were sleeping with Dr Watson here for some sort of legal high? But after the whole Victor fiasco we've all debated you reaching 40 a virgin."

Sherlock felt John's body twitch but he stayed silent. The detective was quiet. Nothing they said mattered anymore. He had John now. Virgin, socially stunted, sociopath, freak. Nothing mattered. To him these names no longer held the same charge. Yes they hurt but he wouldn't tell anyone that. This is what the detective wanted. He needed to know if the insults of his past, in this context would effect him in the present. Sure they upset him but with his doctor by his side, it was cushioned, it all felt small and pointless. However John next to him was tense. Sherlock could practically feel the heat of rage radiating out of the smaller man. 

"You were always such a piece of work back in school. Thought you were better than everyone else." James continued. "Bret and I here had bets going with the lads to see if you would even come." He gestured to Bret beside him.

Taller man laughed as he spoke.

"Do you remember James when we used to invite Will here to events that didn't exist?"

"Or how about that day when his brother had to pick him up because he panicked when we locked him in that cupboard with static sounds playing through the lecture hall speakers." James reminisced with a smirk directed at Sherlock. Who just stared back trying to look as bored as possible. The memory hurt but he couldn't let them see. It's a memory he should have deleted. But he couldn't. It had no closure. This reunion would be the closest thing he would have to that.

"Victor is here you know. He told us all the things he would do to you, over a drink at the pub couple nights after it all kicked off. Who would have thought that the great Sherlock Holmes would be-"

With a quick move and a loud thud, John had shortened the space between him and Bret. The punch collided with the taller man's jaw, knocking him out instantly. His body fell boneless, thudding against the wooden patio floor. John sniffed as he rubbed his nose with his punching fist in a post violence twitch. He glanced around them, no one was about, with the exception of a drunken pair making out in the distance. He straightened his suit, squaring his jaw as he took his place back at Sherlock's side as if nothing happened. However his military posture still engaged.

Sherlock looked down at John only slightly surprised at such a display of thuggish behaviour. The detective spoke before James could speak. "Oh John! You done?" Sherlock asked in amusement.

John shrugged as he saw a glint of appreciation in Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock shook his head with a humoured smile.

"For now, yeah. Done." John quipped stiffly.

"You can take the man out of the army, but I guess not the army out of the man." Sherlock mused, placing a hand on John's hard shoulder. They chuckled as James' face was red with frustration.

"Ar- army? I should have you both thrown out!" James stared down at Bret out cold and back at a smirking John. "I'm calling the police on this thug of yours Sherlock." James fumbled at his jacked pockets for a phone.

Reaching into his own suit pocket Sherlock handed him his phone. "Here. Be quick because I forgot to charge it when we got here."

James glared down at the phone and back up at Sherlock.

"Wha-"

"I work for the police you idiot. I can tell them anything I want. Who would they believe? A detective and an army doctor or a petty criminal who does a bit of money laundering on the side of his car sales business?" Sherlock smirked. John chuckled next to him. "No? Suit yourself." Sherlock put away his phone with a shrug.

"You haven't changed Holmes." James spat. "You're exactly the same. A spoiled, egotistical, virginal, sociopathic freak."

Sherlock sighed a long bored sigh.

"Indeed." Sherlock said blankly.

"Well I think we're done here." John spoke casually as he gave Sherlock his arm, the detective took it appreciatively. "You best clean him up before more people come out here. Just so you know, I've dislocated his jaw." The doctor flashed him a smile, slowly walking Sherlock away.

James was left crouching beside Bret. Tapping his face.

The detective laughed but his body was stiff. John's mind was reeling. What on earth happened to Sherlock at the hands of this Victor. The doctor suddenly felt very aware of his gun. He had been worried that Sherlock would have shut down for a moment when they were talking to James and Bret but from the looks of it he was just letting things play out. To see how far they went. John was much less enthusiastic about that game. He probably shouldn't have punched him. However all the wit and cleverness he usually possessed had faded to the background while his fury had taken its place.

John felt Sherlock lean against his side as they walked into the hall. Sherlock and John made eye contact and the detective knew what John was thinking.

"John... I'll answer any questions you have later." Sherlock leaned down and John felt his face become hot as the detective placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." A few people in the hall had noticed Sherlock's display of affection. Sherlock looked right at them as if challenging.

The army doctor straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "It's fine. It's all fine. Later yeah." John nodded then raised his eyebrows in question. "Drink?"

Sherlock relaxed a bit as they made their way towards the bar. They talked to many people on the way. Mostly small talk. John was sick and tired of everyone around him. He felt incredibly on edge after the whole fiasco with James and now this Victor character. The doctor repeated the words that Bret had said over and over in his head but had to stop himself eventually. He could feel his blood pressure rising. John had a sudden urge to just grab Sherlock and go back to Baker Street. Sherlock was different here. Not his usual snappy self. There was a hesitance and apprehension in the way Sherlock approached people. John chalked it up to having a difficult time when he was so young and vulnerable. No wonder he had such disdain for cultivating friendships and relationships. John squared off his shoulders and put on his pleasantries face as he heard about someone's new baby. Sherlock was combing through people he considered to be potential suspects. John could tell that the people they talked to had been in one way or another targeted by Sherlock.

After talking to what felt like 40 people Sherlock steered John more directly to the bar. They sat at the stools when Sherlock leaned into John, a hand splaying across the doctor's back affectionately.

"I have narrowed down the potential killer to 10 people." Sherlock whispered in John's ear. The baritone rumbling in his ear have him a little shiver which he tried to stifle as much as possible since Sherlock would pick up on that without a shadow of a doubt.

"Brilliant." John smiled up at him. The detective tried not to smile back.

Sherlock took out his phone and began typing away. John flagged a barman and ordered their drinks.

The doctor took this moment to relish in the taste of his peaty single malt whisky. He was never much of a drinker. Well he was in his early 20's back when he was at university. Though watching Harry pull her life apart had definitely put him off for a good couple of years. Then in the army he did it all. He smoked, drank, had a lot of sex and dabbled in a bit of weed here and there. Afghan weed was particularly nice. Now however he felt like he had passed this phase. He was much too old now. Plus even if he didn't consider himself 'old' for that kind of nonsense he wouldn't do it for Sherlock's sake. He watched Sherlock tap away at his phone and took another sip. He worried about his prior drug habits. After that ungodly conversation with the two biggest assholes he's met in a while, his mind went to Sherlock's past.

"Shut up John." Sherlock's voice was deep. The tapping on his phone was relentless.

"You're thinking too loudly. Stop it."

John raised his eyebrows and changed the subject. "What are you doing there anyway?"

"I'm researching the 5 potential subjects' companies. They all own some sort of business. Inherited of course."

"5? I thought you said 10?"

"I've eliminated half because of their speech patterns and their business strategies."

Sherlock looked up from his phone and scanned the hall. He took his drink and without looking brought the cup to his face, a straw hitting him on the nose. John chuckled at this rare display of clumsiness on Sherlock's part.

Sherlock sent him an irritated look and quickly drank through the straw without breaking eye contact.

"You got me a straw?" Setting the glass down.

"What's wrong with a straw?" John tried to hide a laugh. He remembered the detectives 20 minute rant about how incredibly stupid straws were last time they got drunk at Greg's 46th.

"Straws are unbecoming."

John laughed, Sherlock chuckled as he removed the straw and placed it on the bar. He secretly enjoyed John's teasing. The doctor knew him well enough to know he would react and would play on it. Then again Sherlock was also happy to tease or prod at John any chance he got.

Putting his phone away, Sherlock turned on his stool and stood.

"Come John. I want to do another lap or two before any speeches or dancing starts."

John stood, placing a hand on Sherlock's back.

"Alright lead the way." John was starting to get a slight buzz. He needed to eat something. They hadn't eaten since lunch. Well, he hadn't. Sherlock had refused to eat anything John had offered. He saw a food table with people standing in line beside it grabbing a few things.

"Hungry?" Sherlock asked. Not an actual deduction but more of an observation.

"Yeah. You?"

"No."

"Sherlock you only had breakfast."

"No, I'm having a gin and tonic now." Sherlock argued raising his glass slightly.

"That isn't food."

"I'm fine John."

John used his hand on Sherlock's back to steer him in the direction of the food.

"We can do a lap together and passing the food on the way. No time wasted."

"Really I-"

"You're eating something Sherlock." John said in a tone that told Sherlock this conversation was over.

"Fine. Fine." The rolled his eyes and let himself be led to the food.

Once both men had eaten, (and by eaten Sherlock had nibbled on a couple of savory biscuits and John had a normal human's plateful) they did more hand shaking, chatting, small talk and looked at so many pictures of other people's children that they felt like they had a huge extended family. They did one more lap around the room and waited in front of a small stage area with a mic, beside the DJ. Tables had been scattered about to look like some sort of Italian cafe.

They sat at a small table to the side. Close enough to the stage to hear but also close to an exit in case the boredom became overwhelming. John shuffled his chair closer to Sherlock, placing his arm round the back of the taller man's chair. 

"Down to 2 now" Sherlock spoke quietly leaning into John.

"Fantastic." John praised. Sherlock stifled a smile as John rubbed his back slightly with his hand that was on the detective's chair. 

The lights dimmed as people sat down at the tables and stood closer to the tiny stage. A light beamed down onto the mic as people clapped. 

A tall bubbly woman, who's face was red with too much alcohol, bounced up on stage. Her expensive looking dress shimmered slightly in the light. She smiled as everyone quietened down. 

"Hey everyone!" She spoke with what looked like a cheeky grin. Some people in the crowd shouted back 'Hey Ria!!!' The owner of the Hotel, John realised. "I hope you're all enjoying the evening. I promise this won't take long! I just wanted to say thank you for everyone who came. I'm incredibly pleased with the turn out." A couple of awkward claps rang out in the group. "We have a few people who would like to come up here and say a word or two."

Sherlock was already bored. He sighed loudly and John tapped him on the back lightly, glancing sternly at him. Sherlock shivered slightly at the look, the doctor caught it, raising a knowing eyebrow. The detective ignored him and just looked straight at the stage. 

"First we have Carmen, the student rep. Carmen if you please." Ria motioned for a beautiful black woman to take the stage. She spoke about the changes they all have been through, how things have changed, being an adult, family and so on. Typical speech.

A guy called Simon that Sherlock recognised from his Advanced Chemistry then spoke. It all felt like a blur. One bland speech blending into the next.

Ria took the stage again and spoke.

"Now we have Victor Trevor. Come on up." People clapped and some cheered as a slightly above average height man took the stage. His hair was blond and parted on the side. His fine tailored suit gave him an air of almost aristocracy. His brown eyes skimmed the crowd. 

Sherlock felt like he couldn't move. Taking a deep breath in he clenched his jaw. His fists tightening on the fabric of his trousers, knuckles white. 

John shifted closer, pulling the detective to his side as he moved his hand from the table to clasp over Sherlock's. The doctor gently put his other hand on Sherlock's neck bringing his ear closer so he could whisper.

"We don't have to be here. We can leave." John spoke softly, subtly caressing Sherlock's neck. The taller man shook his head. The movement was minimal but due to their proximity the shorter man picked up on it.

"Alright. I'm right here Sherlock. No games." John put his hand to rest on the back of Sherlock's chair. The hand he had over the detective's in his lap, was gently caressing the white knuckles. "This is me. Here. With you." John spoke closely, eyes boring into Sherlock's.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this. It was tough to write.  
> Also it's very late. 
> 
> Warnings for those of you who might have any triggers.
> 
> I hope the pacing of the fic is ok. It's turning into a slow burner, but I don't feel like I can rush them into something just yet.

 

 

Victor chuckled charismatically  from the stage as the cheers and claps died down. Raising his hand in a request for silence, which he was given almost instantly. 

"University seems like ages ago doesn't it? Being student union president feels like a blur for me at least." His voice was smooth and in the queens English. "However far in the past it was, I feel we can all look back with pride at how much we've all accomplished." Pausing for dramatic effect. "Among us we have businessmen and women. Doctors, scientists, actors, bankers, politicians, mothers, fathers, layers and even," his eyes fell on Sherlock, "detectives." He grinned at him from across the room as if sharing an inside joke with the white knuckled detective. 

  
Sherlock held the gaze with a lot of effort as he shuffled uncomfortably in seat. His jaw was clenched so tight he knew his face would later ache. He could see John glance at him out of the corner of his eye. The hand over his stroked gently.

  
"We've all lived through the relentless study and have come out the other end much wiser. We now look back with fondness at a time when we were all, significantly less wise and much heavier drinkers." He smiled, laughs and chuckles echoed. "At least without the 3 day hangover." 

  
John felt Sherlock shiver next to him. He leaned close and whispered reassuringly. "You're alright." If this was some demon Sherlock needed to fight then he would at least be here to encourage him. He had never seen Sherlock this nervous or shaken up since the situation with the hound. 

  
Sherlock looked at him with what was supposed to be irritation, but his eyes were unsure and shiny. "I know I'm alright." The detective replied weakly. He swallowed thickly and looked back up.  

  
"I was excited about this event." Victor continued. "Excited to see old friends, old enemies... old flings." With a smirk Victor winked at Sherlock. A couple of people's heads turned towards him. John maintained his best indifferent poker face. Sherlock's own was frozen like stone. Sherlock released the hand beneath John's from it's vice grip on his clothes and held the doctor's hand tightly.  

  
"Now we must all give a round of applause to our gracious host Ria and her wonderful establishment." He raised his drink in Ria's direction off stage. The group clapped enthusiastically. "I've never been so happy to relive my union president speech giving experience. Thank you all for your attendance. It's a pleasure." Victor flashed a charismatic smile at the crowd and left the stage.

  
Sherlock could hear his heart beating in his ears. His eyes followed Victor off of the stage and to the bar much like a deer watching a prowling wolf in the distance. The detective was frozen. All he could think about was that face and that voice above him. The memory was visceral, his stomach turned. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly. His grip on John's hand had become painful. Taking in a harsh breath his words came out quiet and shaken.

"I...I don't know what to do." He opened his eyes turning his body to the shorter man. "I always know, John." Sherlock rubbed his eyes roughly. In an inhale of breath he grabbed at the front John's suit jacket. The detective glanced around anxiously. He spotted Victor walking towards the exit to the hotel.

"Sherlock..." John began then stopped suddenly as Sherlock stood abruptly. His eyes followed Victor as he left the Hall. Before John could reach for the taller man, he had already made a dash for the door.

"Fuck." John cursed as he went after him.

John stopped at the entrance hall. Dammit! No one was at the desk to let him know what direction they went in.

 

 

Sherlock followed Victor into the gardened parking spaces. He stood behind a pillar as he watched the blond man open his car and place something inside. Blinking hard the detective glanced down at his shaking hands, willing them to stop. His heart felt like it would pound right out of his chest. Sherlock peered round the pillar to see Victor on his phone. The grounds of the hotel held an eerie silence. 

"Are you going to hide back there all evening, or will you come out?" Victor's voice drawled, projecting far despite not speaking loudly. 

Sherlock stepped out from behind the pillar as composed as he could manage. He said nothing just stared at the man before him. Who busied himself with his phone for what seamed like minutes. He had always done this. Used him then ignored him. 

"I'll be honest with you. I didn't think you'd show up." Victor mused, putting his phone away and straightening out his lapel. "Especially not with... Company."

The blond man smiled at Sherlock who felt stiff and paralyzed like he had grown roots into the ground. Victor made his way to stand before the detective. He lifted his hand and brushed a stray curl on Sherlock's forehead to sit inline with the rest of his fringe. Sherlock didn't flinch. 

 

 

Stepping out into the brisk air John glanced around the front entrance. He had searched as diligently as he could around the Hotel. Luckily for him it wasn't a big one. Four floors and two wings, one of which was the hall itself. He stepped out into the night he could see his breath form in front of his face due to the temperature drop. Squinting he scanned the area. Noticing two figures close to the car park he walked slowly. As the doctor got closer he could hear the Victor's voice speaking. He quickly spotted the undeniable silhouette that was Sherlock Holmes.  

John was conflicted. He could either barge into whatever conversation was happening and potentially ruin what ever attempt at closure he assumed Sherlock was attempting. Or he could wait. If things got out of hand or he felt like Sherlock needed help he could always step in. Using his military subtlety he was able to get close enough without either of the men noticing. In a half crouch behind a large ornate bush he waited. Listening and watching.

 

 

"You're still as beautiful as I remember." Stepping close Victor stood tall to talk right next to Sherlock's face. His breath blowing lightly on the detective's cheek and jaw. "All jagged, hard edges and points. Yet delicate. Like glass. Or maybe ice."

A shiver ran up and down Sherlock's body as Victor stepped back too look at his face close up. "You were always so mouthy. What's wrong?" the blond questioned as he brought his thumb against Sherlock's lips. He slowly dragged down his hand as he spoke, "Where is that serpentine tongue of yours? Anymore venom left in you?" Victor's thumb was stroking the detective's bottom lip when Sherlock took a step back and grabbed his wrist tightly. 

"Don't." Sherlock's voice was hoarse and deep. 

Victor raised an eyebrow at the hand around his wrist and smirked. "Are we upset now?" Victor pouted sarcastically as he spoke. "Wait. Your new dom, he doesn't share you?" with his other hand Victor pried Sherlock's fingers from around his wrist.

John had become hyper aware of the gun in his jacket. Trying to control his breathing he watched. Waited. Sherlock needed this he told himself repeatedly. If it was up to him he would have already taken action. But the doctor felt that in this context it would be an act of selfishness. Just an outburst of possessive protectiveness.  

Sherlock brought his hands to his sides and looked spoke. "Nor did you, but you thought it would be a good idea to surprise me."

The man in front of the detective let out a laugh. "You're still not hung-up about that are you?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I never even fucked you."

"You took something from me."

"You gave it, Sherlock." Victor's face contorted into a frown as he took a threatening step forwards.

"THAT IS UNTRUE!" Sherlock shouted, his finger pointing at Victor's chest. His hands were shaking. His breathing was rapid. 

Victor took a step back, raising his hands as if in defeat. "I didn't make you drink, or do the drugs, Sherlock." Victor lowered his voice darkly. "That was all you."

Sherlock let out a choked noise as he shook his head. His eyes closing as he paced in a small circle and back to his original position. Rubbing his eyes with one hand he looked up into the vast darkness behind Victor, fists clenching at his sides. 

"Sure you were high, but so was everyone." Victor's tone was bored again. "I just can't believe how sensitive you are. You put up these walls," He gestured upwards with his hands. "Yet look for D/s relationships to be in. Then you bitch and moan about not getting what you want or feeling hard done by when those walls are broken down. Grow the fuck up Sherlock. So you sucked me off and a few rugby lads when you were drunk and coked out of your mind. You never said no when they came in. Was it because you knew they'd bring drugs?"

"I was tied up. And fucked u-" Sherlock was cut off.

"You asked to be tied Sherlock, and you took the drugs yourself." Victor raised his voice.

"There were Polaroids taken." In a burst of rage Sherlock grabbed the front of Victor's clothes, getting up in his face Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth. "I am not an idiot. I know it was pre-planned. There were no phones back then. Something like that would have been calculated. You sold me out." Sherlock spat out the last words.

"Your brother took care of the photographs." The blond man stated unapologetically.  

"You let them use me and then You just left me there, alone."

Victor grabbed both of Sherlock's wrists as he shrugged. "You were unmovable." Victor let go of one wrist and made an attempt at a punch to the side of the detective's head.

John immediately stood from his position and began a well paced walk towards the brawling duo.

Leaning back Sherlock dodged the fist, then with force, brought his head forwards, headbutting Victor on the nose. Stumbling backwards, still seeing stars and off kilter he swore loudly as Sherlock advanced onto him. Blow by blow Sherlock left minor calculated injuries, something to remember him by. Victor made a few narrow escapes then landing a blow to Sherlock's face in retaliation. The detective stumbled slightly but recovered quickly as he began moving back towards the blond man. 

John had wanted to let Sherlock have his closure, his revenge but this was spiraling out of control quickly. As Victor threw a punch at his detective he dashed out from behind the bush, in one swift movement grabbing a surprised Victor and pinned him on his own car. The doctor twisted his arm knowingly, kicking his legs apart immobilizing him. 

Sherlock swayed tiredly to a halt as John pushed against Victor's arm. The detective knew that the doctor was ready to dislocate it. 

The night suddenly felt empty. With just their heavy breathing and Victor's pained whines echoing in the car park. 

"I had heard you found yourself a military man." Victor choked out from beneath John's grasp. With a wince he continued, "I guess you needed to have been through a war, to be able to take him."

Growling slightly in his throat, John pushed harder at the arm as Victor shouted in pain. The doctor leaned close to the other man's ear, his voice low and dangerous. "A good dom inspires submission, he doesn't just take it." John grip had shifted and he was positioned to dislocate when Sherlock stopped him.

"Wait!" Sherlock's voice sounded over Victor's struggle.

John looked at Sherlock flustered and slightly disappointed. They're eyes met and Sherlock touched his own bruised cheek lightly. Wincing at the pain he tutted, looking down at his fingers to check for blood. A a small amount of it glistened in the single street lamp. The detective looked up with a blank face and shrugged. 

"Do it."

John did not hesitate. Swiftly and with a loud echoing 'pop' he dislocated Victor's arm. The man below John shouted in pain then became silent as John stepped away. Victor slid down the side of his car, sat on the floor clutching his arm. His nose bleeding onto his expensive suit. 

John crouched down in front of Victor and spoke softly. "You can thank Sherlock that a couple of bruised ribs from him and a dislocated arm from me is all you got." 

Sherlock watched silently in thought as John made his way to him. Something in Sherlock felt lifted. As if he could move forwards. It wasn't the intense display of violence that had fixed that, but it was him being able to say everything that he needed to say. A small but sore smile crossed his lips as John approached. John Watson, so often overlooked. So often was he underestimated. With his cardigans and jumpers, all that bad telly and blogging. Oh how terrible was his blogging. But Sherlock had never felt so inspired by anyone. John was both danger and safety, freedom and discipline. While the detective may as well be delicate yet dangerous shards of glass, John was a soft and cosy yet solid and unyielding.  

John stood in front of the detective and gently reached up to his cheek checking the cut. Sherlock leaned into the touch letting John have a look. The doctor spoke quietly into the night. 

"Come on then. Lets go to our room so I can give that a clean." They turned and John placed a hand on Sherlock's lower back. Both men walking away from quiet groans emanating from the man next to the car.

"It's fine John." Sherlock argued weakly. John knew it was just an automatic reaction on Sherlock's part to make things harder.

"I'm sure it will be when I've given it a wipe."

"Stop fussing." Sherlock tiredly rolled his eyes. 

"I will fuss as much as I like Sherlock. I'm the doctor here."

They bickered quietly past the hall as they saw scattered people dancing drunkenly. 

The elevator ride was quiet. They stood side by side. 

Their room was just as they had left it. John didn't remember last time he felt so excited about laying in a hotel bed. He was incredibly tired. Glancing up at Sherlock who's eyes were telling a similar story, he guided the detective to sit on the edge of the bed. Sherlock complied with no resistance. John made quick work of his suit jacket and tie, throwing them over a chair. He opened a small pocket of his toiletries bag on the desk and pulled out some antiseptic wipes. Standing in front of Sherlock he placed a finger under his chin tilting his head up. Sherlock went with it, closing his eyes in a tired sigh. The doctor cleaned the cut thoroughly and Sherlock winced but for the most part he was indifferent to John's ministrations. 

"Alright. We're done here." John smiled down at Sherlock who sent him a weak one back. 

They stayed like this for a while. John's cheeks flushed slightly as he felt hands move up his sides shyly and then in a swift movement Sherlock was tightly hugging him round the middle. Face buried in his shirt. John relaxed into the embrace and looked down at the mop of curls at his stomach. Gently he carded his fingers through the dark hair, soliciting a small yet baritone sound from Sherlock's throat. 

Sherlock spoke muffled into John's shirt. 

"Today has been a terrible day."

John chuckled in agreement.

"Absolutely fucking dreadful." John mused. "And we were a right pair of thugs."

"You dislocated two body parts on two separate people." The doctor saw Sherlock's shoulders rise and fall in laughter.

"And you broke a deserving arsehole's nose and dealt more than a few bruised ribs." John nodded impressed. 

Sherlock pulled back from John and the doctor took a step back.

"Bed?" John raised his eyebrows.

"Bed."

 

 

 

They both sluggishly made a move to change into some lose sleep clothes. Sherlock had a giant t-shirt and some lounge trousers. While John had a white wife-beater and pinstripe pajama bottoms. Sherlock was the first to crawl into bed, facing the empty side where John would lay waiting patiently. The doctor turned off all the lights and padded his way to the bed, climbing in.

As soon as he was under the covers he felt a weight suddenly at his side. Sherlock had maneuvered his way under John's arm, placing his head where John's shoulder met his chest. The detective nuzzled at John's neck as he draped an arm around Sherlock's tense shoulders. 

"Is this fine?" Sherlock questioned hesitantly as he shyly placed his leg over one of John's.

"It's fine. It's all fine."

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Sorry this one didn't go up as quickly as the rest.  
> Work and life got the best of me.  
> Thanks for all the lovely and encouraging comments.  
> They are always appreciated and keep me inspired to write more. :D  
> I'll make an effort to respond to them more too :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

John woke up to a heavy heat against his left side. Unruly curls tickled his cheek as he turned his head slowly to look for his phone. It wasn't on the bed-stand, probably in his jacket. The doctor became suddenly very aware of being almost off the bed. Letting out a single chuckle he leaned his cheek against the soft hair.  Of course Sherlock would be a bed hog. They had shared a bed before on a prior case. But that sleep had been interrupted by a break in and Sherlock imobalising the criminal who was at least two Sherlocks in bulk. Fondly stroking the detective's hair as he stirred slightly making a small yet baritone noise.

John looked up at the ceiling in thought. This felt good. Peaceful. Despite the days prior frustrations he hadn't slept as well as he had just then. A feeling in his chest, a fluttering of sorts, sparked as he thought about the the night before. He couldn't say he wasn't surprised that Sherlock had been in a D/s relationship. Or in any long term relationship at all for that matter. 

John knew that from that night at Angelo's he was attracted to the detective. He was sure Sherlock had seen it too. John loved tall lanky men in equal measures to his preferences for curvaceous women. His dating background definitely had a pattern of strong personalities and good hair, in either gender. The doctor knew Sherlock liked him (in his own way), but with Sherlock you could never tell what certain actions correlated to and if they held the same meaning. The detective was always in one way or another seeking John's praise and approval. Even though he so often dismissed the things John said to him. 

The shorter man was shaken from his thoughts when a deep voice sounded near his ear.

"Phone." Sherlock mumbled from the crook of John's neck, thrusting a flat palm out of the covers while pushing his face closer to John.

"Good morning to you too." John shook his head. "I don't know where your phone is, or mine for that matter."

"Jacket."

"I can't move. You're on me." John looked over to Sherlock's side and motioned in the direction of a chair with the detective's clothes. "Your jacket is closer."

In a sigh of great upheaval and dramatic struggle Sherlock pulled himself away, eyes still closed. Crossing the expanse of the bed, thrusting a hand into the jacket pocket. Phone in hand and before John could move, the detective had come back to the snuggling at his side. Resting his hand with a phone on the doctors stomach he blinked adjusting to the light of the room and the device.

John smiled as he felt Sherlock settle back with his phone. He let his arm drape over him stroking his back lazily. 

After a minute or so of furious texting, Sherlock threw his phone behind him on the bed. 

John recognised a post Mycroft text sulk when he saw it. 

"Yes. Mycroft." Sherlock answered before doctor could vocalise his thought. 

"What's he say this time?" 

"Just asking me how the evening went. He said that I can now close that chapter of my life and that he has taken care of my injured peers. So on and so forth." Sherlock sighed dismissively. "Then he asked about the case."

"Oh shit yeah. The case." John had completely forgotten about it. 

"Solved it. Texted Lestrade."

"But you've been asleep..." John questioned baffled. Was he solving cases in his sleep now?!

"Solved it last night. It was only a 5 in the end."

"But you don't leave the house unless it's at least a 7...."

Sherlock was quiet for a bit, then spoke carefully.

"Mycroft withheld information from me and made it all sound way more interesting than it truly was." The detective grumbled.

"Why would he do that?"

"He wanted me to come to this moronic event. He knew that under normal circumstances I wouldn't have bothered." 

"So he lied to you about a case so that you could slay some old demons?" 

"Yes." Sherlock's arm wrapped around John's middle as he continued. "Though I had a suspicion that this would have been the case. Mycroft has been trying to get me to cross paths with these people using other cases too." 

"Is that how you knew about James' money laundering?"

"Yes." Sherlock said, shifting his body up so that his face was almost next to John's. The doctor closed his eyes in thought as he felt Sherlock's nose nuzzle where his jaw and ear met. "I guess I might have also wanted to come. In one way or another I needed this."

"Wait." John's fingers gently grabbed and tugged back lightly at a fistful of Sherlock's hair, so he could glance down at the detective's face from the corner of his eye. The dark haired man complied letting his head be pulled back away from the comfort of the doctor's neck. "The invitation. You had made sure I saw it. You knew I would have offered to go with you." John's voice softened as Sherlock began to pull away apprehensively as if to get up, but John's grip in his hair pulled him back down to the blond's neck. "If you just asked I would have come. You know that don't you." John didn't like being manipulated. Sherlock knew this. Though the doctor didn't want to push the subject any further with the night prior being a delicate one for the detective. 

"I didn't want to ask." Sherlock relaxed back against the masculine scent of John's neck, his voice muffled. "Plus you didn't really offer to come, just told me you were coming."

They didn't speak for a while. Just enjoyed being close to each other. What Sherlock liked about John was his appreciation for silence. Not intimidated by it or feeling the need to always fill it. They could just be quiet together. A rare sense of calm spread through him as the doctor's fingers stroked his hair slowly. 

John wished he could stay like this for longer, but he needed the bathroom and he was pretty sure they would soon have to check out. From Sherlock's breathing the doctor could tell that he wasn't asleep but very close. 

"Hey," John gently shook the lanky man's shoulder. "We should get ourselves sorted. I have to wee."

Sherlock groaned lazily and detached himself in a sulk, flopping on his side facing away from John as the doctor got up picking up his clothes from the chair. 

John laughed with raised eyebrows at the usual Sherlockian behaviour. 

They dressed and packed their things quickly. The silence between them was only broken by a hungry wail from John's stomach. They hadn't eaten much last night and they woke up quite late. The doctor made a mental note to try and get Sherlock to eat something substantial. 

 

 

There was a different lady at the counter  when they arrived downstairs. John asked if there were any nice pubs near by where they could have a meal before travelling back to London. She quickly explained the directions to a gastro pub in the area. 

"Most of the people from the reunion last night have gone over there for a hangover curing fry-up." She smiled. 

The last thing John wanted was to see more of the people from last night. He thanked her and walked over to Sherlock who was tapping away at his phone. The doctor lightly placed a hand on the detective's back to grab his attention. "Come on then. You're driving back."

Sherlock glared at him. "No I'm not."

The pair bickered their way out of the hotel and into the car, where John made sure to sit at the passenger seat. After putting his own bags in the car boot, Sherlock threw himself into the drivers seat and started the car. 

"I'm not a good driver." He said in a whine.

"Bollocks! You have driver licenses in 13 different countries." John mused. 

Sherlock smirked and turned out of the hotel's grounds. 

"You're right I'm a fantastic driver. It's just so incredibly dull." Sherlock stated. "Where to Captain?"

John jumped slightly at the title. He felt embarrassed at the spark of arousal that ran through his body. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the cheeky grin on Sherlock's face. Had he said that on purpose? 

The doctor cleared his throat and spoke quickly. 

"Pub down the road. Though it has a few people from last night there." The doctor paused waiting for Sherlock to decline. "How are we feeling about that?" John answered stiffly. 

"It's fine. Pub it is." Sherlock nodded. 

 

 

The pub wasn't far down the road. The doctor was just glad that the drive was short because he currently felt like his stomach was eating itself. 

It was a cozy cottage style place with wooden beams running across the ceiling. Exposed brick on some walls and the smell of wood was strong despite the scents of ale and food. It was quite busy, the wait was about ten minutes so they stood near the entrance. They were chatting about something Sherlock had read in one of John's medical journals when the doctor heard someone call out his name.

"Captain Watson?" 

They both turned to a man about Sherlock's age maybe a bit older. His hair was buzzed short and his green eyes were friendly. 

"Michael?" John asked after searching for a name in his head. 

The man beamed happily and half marched over to them. Military Sherlock deduced. The hair, the walk, the title. 

"It's me Captain, how are things?! It's been what? Six years now?" Michael counted in his head. 

"I suppose it has been, and please, you can call me John now." John smiled back. It was always nice to see old army friends. The doctor gestured at the tall detective beside him with light touch on his back. "This is Sherlock."

"Great to meet you Sherlock." Michael and the detective shook hands politely. "What brings you gentleman here?" Michael spoke as if holding himself back from a salute. 

"We were here for Sherlock's university reunion." John smiled at the detective who looked like he was trying his best to pretend to listen. "How about you?"

"What a coincidence So was I. My wife studied geology at the same university." Michael  grinned proudly. Glancing from one to the other he spoke again. "Must have missed you two last night. Though to be fair we didn't stay long. Wasn't really our vibe. So you lads coming to the military reunion?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John. Why would he withhold this information from him? "It's a general army thing but all us who touched base at Kandahar at one time or another are definitely going." Michael continued.

Sherlock stared down at John who could feel the heat of his gaze on the side of his face. 'Fuck' the doctor thought. He was being outed, not to the military guys but to Sherlock. The tall man never brought up his sexuality though he's sure that the detective had his theories or deductions. John always kept that close to his heart, not many people knew, and he wanted to at least have one piece of information of his own that Sherlock didn't know about him. If he was going to be outed as bisexual, he'd have to explain his nickname 'three continent Watson' in a different context for Sherlock. He hadn't planned on taking the detective to his reunion. You only take partners to that sort of thing. And this would be him actually going as 100% himself. Not as Sherlock's fake boyfriend. Nor was it for a case. This was supposed to be him meeting up with the lads he fought along side with. 

There was another thing John had kept not only to himself but from himself. The way his and Sherlock's relationship had been slowly progressing since the detective had come back from being dead. The touching, the affection, his protectiveness, Sherlock's obvious jealousy when he would go out for drinks with women from the surgery. Something had changed. Maybe they were already dating. Dating and he didn't even know. The shift was gradual. Though John was noticing a slow resentment building up in him at their make-shift relationship. He had almost asked Sherlock out all those years ago. Sherlock on the other hand treated him as if they were in a relationship. All the perks, non of the hassle. Suddenly John was feeling slightly exposed, and a little bit used. 

"Oh right." John choked.

"You got the invitation right?" Michael asked.

Sherlock was staring.

"Yeah. Yeah I got it in the post."

Michael smiled happily and gave John a manly pat on the upper arm. "Well you should go Cap- John." He corrected himself and John felt Sherlock shift slightly beside him. "Even Sholto might make an appearance." Michael winked. 

John could tell Sherlock was about to open his mouth to ask about Sholto when he cut in. 

"Yes. I'll definitely be there." 

"Brilliant!" Michael looked over his shoulder as a woman at the pub restaurant area called to him, "best be off gents. Can't leave her waiting too long." He smiled up at both of them and shook John's hand and then Sherlock's. "Great to meet you Sherlock. I read John's blog all the time and it makes me happy to know that he's found someone who can keep him on his toes." They let go and Sherlock smiled politely. "Always needed a bit of danger."

"It's been my pleasure." The detective spoke with a smile.

Michael's wife waved again at him and he turned around. "Alright. Take care gents. See you there" 

John straightened his chin as the waiter came over to let them know a table was ready. The doctor was silent and as they sat down he opened a menu a little more aggressively than he had originally intended. Sherlock sat across from him with the onset of a sulk, face frowning. So John was trying to hide this reunion from him. He could read it all over the doctor. And that was just a surface observation. Not even a full deep deduction. 

"Who's Sholto?"

"A good friend."

"If he's such a good friend why don't you ever talk about him?" Sherlock questioned not caring about coming off jealous.

John sighed and placed the menu on the table forcefully.

"I'm not going to answer that, Sherlock." He asked with the stern voice Sherlock loved. 

Sherlock paused for a moment. Letting the situation linger. He placed his hands together and touched his chin with the tips of his fingers. With a raised eyebrow he spoke.

"You didn't want me to know about the reunion." It was a statement, the detective's face wore a smirk. The doctor knew this meant that Sherlock was ready to either argue or mock him in one way or another.

"No." He shook his head quickly. "No I didn't."

"Why?!" A strange look passed across Sherlock's expressing as his eyes flickered from the table then back up at John's with the previous intensity. His hands landing on his lap sulkily. 

Was it hurt that John saw? He cleared his throat. 

"I couldn't bring you. So there wasn't a point in telling you." The doctor spoke as he looked out the window with a shrug. 

"Why couldn't you bring me?" The detective demanded teetering on the edge of a strop.

John's eyes flickered annoyed back to Sherlock's.

"It's for wives, husbands, partners of those in the army." John said exasperated, throwing his hands up he continued when Sherlock pouted like a petulant child. "And you." The doctor points at him. "You're married to your bloody work Sherlock." 'fuck', the doctor thought to himself. He's given it all away. "You can't keep doing this."

Sherlock's eyebrows couldn't have shot up any higher as he stuttered slightly.

"Doing what?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Trying to make me feel guilty for not telling you something that only people in relationships would usually be invited to. Acting jealous whenever I go out with a woman." Sherlock's face had turned slightly rosier and John didn't know if it was from annoyance or a genuine blush. "Chasing away all the girlfriends I've ever had. Always demanding I drop everything for you."

Sherlock leaned forwards in a huff and spoke quietly but angrily.

"Is this about you coming to my reunion? Because I never asked you to come. Oh well since we're doing this, then how about you explain to me why you're always so interested in my constant whereabouts? Why are you constantly feeling like you have to defend me?" Sherlock then added in a hushed retaliation. " And you were the one who chased those girlfriends away all on your own, John."

John stared back dangerously. "Don't you fucking dare Sherlock. And you were dead you prick. I need to know you're safe. I will not lose you again." He spat. His voice was low and dangerous. "Why did you want me to come to this reunion of yours Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes softened as the intensity of John's gaze was making him squirm. He looked away, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Perfect." John scoffed rubbing his chin and jaw, staring down at the menu. He glanced up when Sherlock began to speak quietly. 

"I...It's just... You've always said you weren't g-" Sherlock's deep whisper was soft, then interrupted.

"Hello what would you guys like to drink." The waiter stood next to them. Eyes fluttering between the two of them and the tension. His smile became a bit strained as he began, "Um, I could come back lat-"

"No, no it's fine," John said as he sat up, turning to the waiter. "I'll have," he glanced at his watch, he couldn't drink before 12:00. 12:34. "A large glass of house red please." The waiter wrote it down quickly, obviously wanting to get away from this table of bickering lovers. Sherlock was about to answer when John spoke for him. "And he'll have an apple juice." 

Sherlock frowned. 

"Can we order food?" John asked, ignoring the detective

"Yes of course."

"Two fry ups please, vegetarian for me, meat for him." John picked up their menus and handed it to the waiter. "Thanks mate."

"You're welcome, I'll be back with your drinks in a bit." The man in uniform dashed off as quickly as he could.

"You're going to drink so you can't drive." Sherlock pointed out.

"Yep." John sighed as he looked out the window. Sherlock probably knew now. Knew that he liked him. Or maybe Sherlock had known the entire time. Used his feelings to manipulate him. To get him to do what he wanted. The doctor hated being controlled. 

They were silent when their drinks arrived, glancing at each other as they took sips.

Sherlock was the first to speak. 

"You always said you weren't gay." He said, picking at something on his sleeve.

"I'm not." John quipped. 

Sherlock waited in though. His eyes shot up to look at John who waited patiently for the detective to piece two and two together. For such a genius he was so useless when it came to sexuality and relationships. Going on nothing but stereotypes like he had done at the lab with 'Jim from IT'. 

"You're bisexual." Sherlock exclaimed. He tutted and made a fist on the table. "There is always something."

"Congratulations." John said bleakly downing one quarter of his glass of wine. 

"Not gay..." Sherlock repeated in thought. 

"Married to your work." the doctor said again this time with a sarcastic chuckle. 

Sherlock looked up, his face open.

"I don't know if that statement holds up anymore." The detective's voice was a deep whisper. His tone was honest.

John downed the rest of his drink. Pursing his lips he muttered. "What?"

Sherlock flushed as he fiddled with his glass of apple juice, taking a quick drink. 

"I missed you when I was away. More than I've ever missed anyone." He said as-a-matter-of fact. 

John cleared his throat, nodding. "I missed you too. Lots actually."

"The work is always priority."

"Of course. I would never take that away." The doctor said quietly.

They didn't speak. Their food arrived and they ate in silence. The air still held a charge however it had shifted from tense anger and frustration to a strange anticipation. John downed his drink and asked for the bill. Sherlock had eaten everything which pleased the doctor. Though he knew that Sherlock had eaten it all in order to not further rock the boat.  

They walked out into the afternoon towards the rental car. They both got in and Sherlock didn't start the car. The detective was tense. John wasn't feeling particularly at ease. 

Sherlock spoke first, his hands reaching up to clasp the steering wheel. Knuckles white.

"I want to try this." He admitted. "Us... A relationship... I haven't had one - a real one -  in a long time."

"Alright. That's fine." John nodded, he turned to look at the detective, who stared back. "But I will tell you one thing Sherlock. I don't like being manipulated or controlled. I will never interfere with the work. Or try and change you. However some things I can't deal with."

The detective knew what John was talking about. John liked being in control. He knew this. He always had. It was why his girlfriends never stayed. They weren't his 'type'. The detective always picked men who liked control. Though he never found one who had the right balance. However he had never met a man so balanced like John Watson. Nodding slowly Sherlock agreed. "I know."

John sent Sherlock a careful smile who sent him a shy one back. John reached up, stroking gently across a defined cheekbone. The detective sighed and leaned into the feeling, letting go of the steering wheel, one of his hands slowly moved to grasp at John's clothes. John took this as a good sign and moved his stroking hand behind the taller man's neck. Stroking gently at the hairs there. Sherlock relaxed, closing his eyes as if he were a big cat, getting his ear rubbed. The doctor smiled at the endearing and rare show of vulnerability. Pulling slowly, John closed the distance between them, Sherlock complied without hesitance and their lips lightly brushed. Gently John pressed their lips together, kissing lightly at first. Sherlock was a little stiff at first. John could tell that it wasn't hesitation but nervousness. Usually he would be faking a kiss to get information. However this was truly him. Letting himself be kissed by his doctor. Sherlock let slip a small deep moan then stifled it, he felt John grin against his mouth. The blond opened his mouth slightly, inviting the detective to do the same. The taller man opened his partially as he felt John's tongue, gentle and unintrusive ask to enter. Sherlock opened fully, granting John full access. The doctor let out a guttural moan as his grip tightened on the back of the detective's neck possessively. One of Sherlock's hand had a fist full of cardigan, while the other reached up to John's face. Masculine skin prickly under his fingertips as their tongues touched shyly. 

Breathless, John pulled back. His grip on Sherlock's neck keeping him close. The doctor's eyes glanced at the moistened cupid's bow lips and he licked his own looking back up at Sherlock's eyes. Which were half lidded, peering back at him. 

"I'm not a virgin." Sherlock assured in a hushed whisper. 

John laughed, giving Sherlock a small peck. The detective closed his eyes at the contact and opened again when the shorter man pulled away.

"Okay. Good to know." John grinned.

Sherlock let out an anxious laugh as he pulled away sitting back at his seat. 

"I didn't know if I had to disclose that or not, now that we're in a... relationship." Sherlock said carefully. 

"Please don't sound so excited about it." John grinned at Sherlock's nervousness. The detective soon picked up and put on his usual front, grinning back.   

They burst into laughter as Sherlock turned the key starting the engine. The taste of John on his lips lingered pleasantly as they drove the 3 hour journey back to Baker Street.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Life has kind of been a whirlwind. I have already written chapter 7, just making sure it's organised and such.
> 
> Thanks again for reading. Really appreciate all the hits, kudos, bookmarks and comments.

 

The car journey took longer than they both had expected but eventually they arrived to a neatened up flat by 'not the house keeper'. Mrs Hudson fussed over them. Asking them about the reunion, chatting and gossiping about the neighbours. John could tell Sherlock loved her chatter, though he tried his hardest to look bored and irritated by it. Mrs Hudson however saw right through it and continued her tirade. 

Taking a second look at Sherlock's face she rushed up to him and grabbed his head in between her hands. "Oh what have you boys been up to?" She said, touching his cheek lightly, Sherlock flinched. 

The detective placed his hands over hers and smiled softly down at her. 

"Just closing a chapter on the terrible book that was my university life." He slowly removed the hands from his face still holding them gently, he leaned forwards and placed a kiss on her cheek. "This is nothing. You should have seen what John and I had done to him." He winked, flashing her a toothy grin.

"Oh dear..." She turned her attention to John was always enjoyed watching Sherlock's affectionate side with this 'mummy away from mummy'. "Are you alright John?"

"I'm fine!" He nodded, "Absolutely fine... Knuckles were a tad sore, but I can hardly feel it today." He and Sherlock grinned at each other. 

"You boys are always getting up to all sorts." Mrs Hudson pretend scolded. She let go of Sherlock's hands unleashing a light playful tap on his arm. The tall man just smiled cheekily at her. Making her way out, she turned around to speak. "I almost forgot. Greg popped round before you two arrived. He wanted to make sure that you go to that award ceremony tomorrow." She looked at Sherlock.

"Award ceremony?" John pipped in. 

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his temples, turning his back to both people in the room, staring out of the window.

"Oh yes!" Mrs Hudson smiled proudly. "Apparently it's for saving an elderly home from being burnt down by a couple of arsonists. The local papers will be there you know. To help fix your post death image, Greg said that it'd be best you go." She wagged her finger at him and he threw himself on his chair dramatically and as if boneless. "Well anyway. Make sure you go young man." She walked out calling behind her as she closed the door. "Good night boys."

John looked at Sherlock who appeared to be melting in his seat with absolute laziness and brooding. Shaking his head, the doctor laughed. "I'm going to put the kettle on, while I take a military shower." Filling up the kettle he turned around after setting it to boil. "Want some tea?" 

"Yes please." Sherlock said quickly as he moved his arm over his eyes. His body was spread out on his chair dramatically. One foot on the floor, one leg over an arm rest, an arm over the other, hand touching the floor.

The rest of the evening went by quietly. It was almost like everything was as before. Where John talked, Sherlock grunted sulkily. After being asked, the detective explained his current sulk due to not wanting to go to some stupid award that meant nothing to him. The doctor tried to explain that even though to the detective it meant nothing, to others it did. Sherlock reluctantly perked up a bit and went for an incredibly long shower. To the point where John assumed he had lost him in some sort of domestic drowning accident. However he emerged, hair askew and damp, with just his lounge trousers, no shirt and the silk dressing gown.

John couldn't help but steal glances at the soft chest against silk and the flushed cheeks from the heat of the shower. He watched as Sherlock sat down on the chair in front of him. Long legs crossing as the detective picked up a book and began scanning through it. The doctor had to admit. He wanted to touch Sherlock, snog him to an inch of his life. Sure he wanted to fuck him. But he wasn't sure if it was too soon for that level of intimacy. Especially after the situations brought up at the reunion. The last thing he wanted was to break Sherlock, or push him into something he didn't want. John laughed at the thought. He was sure that if he expressed that out loud Sherlock would argue about not being weak, delicate or some sort of snivelling virgin. Which John didn't disagree with. However there was something about Sherlock that he felt was vulnerable. He watched as the detective bit his lip in thought, brows furrowing slightly. A hint of guilt went through the doctor as his thoughts became significantly less decent. Imagining how his cock would look like against those beautiful lips, his hands holding onto that hair, the detective on his knees. Shaking his head and clearing his throat he stood up, Sherlock's eyes never leaving his book.

"Well I'm off to bed. Good night." John said casually. He didn't know if he should ask Sherlock to come with him. He thought he would let the detective come to him when he wanted to. 

Sherlock eyes snapped up and stood abruptly, fumbling with his book, throwing it on his chair.

"John wait."

The doctor turned around. The taller man stared intensely at him making the doctor almost uncomfortable, but only almost, the detective often stared at him like this. The taller man walked over to John and stood close. 

John gave him a knowing smile, he knew what this was. This was Sherlock trying to ask for affection, or start something. He would do this sometimes ever since he had come back. Would stand closer to the doctor, nudge him slightly for a pat on the back, or a quick hug. 

The doctor brought his hands up, brushing away the light dressing gown from the detective's hips to place his hand where the skin and trousers met. Sherlock shivered slightly and spoke with his deep voice, arms encircling John's neck in reciprocation. 

"I usually know how to do this when I'm faking it to get information." Their faces were close. 

"It's fine." John leaned up and planted a light kiss on the detective's lips. "If you want affection or attention you just have to ask, or if it's appropriate, you can initiate. You know that don't you?"

"Yes, yes, I know." Sherlock nodded and carefully leaning forwards to press his lips against John's again. John could get used to this. The touches and those soft lips. Pulling away Sherlock looked incredibly serious. 

"You should sleep downstairs. With me. My bed is bigger." He said quickly. Making it sound like a fact not an offer. "Only logical." He added in a bored tone.

"You're a cuddler. I get it." John teased. 

"Oh shut up."

"Nothing wrong with that." The doctor reassured. "The last person I was with didn't have a lot of interest in cuddles."

"Please stop saying the word 'cuddles'..." Sherlock groaned with slight embarrassment.

John gave him another quick kiss on the lips. "No." He replied, grinning playfully. 

Sherlock smiled back, shaking his head as he moved his arms from behind the doctors neck and rested his hands on the broad chest. "I have to rearrange a couple of rooms in my mind palace. I'll come to bed when I'm done."

"Alright." John nodded releasing Sherlock's hips. "Don't stay up too late." He added, more sternly than he had intentioned. He noted the detective's blush and his pupil dilate at the possibility of an order.

"Yes." The taller man croaked out.

John pecked the detective on the cheek and headed to Sherlock's room as he wondered if the detective would have finished that sentence with a 'John' or 'sir'. 

 

 

Sherlock left his mind palace with a startled look at his phone. Midnight. John had asked, no, told him not to stay up late. Typically he would stay up until 4am, get a 2 hour nap and wake up at 6am. The doctor always disapproved of this and would tell him off constantly. Sherlock would usually ignore such a demand, of course, but this felt different. Now that John Watson was in full context it just wasn't the same. The bisexual Dom, army doctor who had a balance of nurture and dominance. Both so in sync in his professional and personal life that Sherlock hadn't really noticed how well these facets of the doctor had worked on him. John Watson had been altering his minor behaviours without his, or maybe even the doctor's own knowledge. People around Sherlock were always surprised at how much more polite and agreeable he had become. Granted, it wasn't a change in personality, just in his bad social habits. Mrs Hudson would always go on about how John always kept the detective calm and made him less messy about the house. Molly and Lestrade had both made their own similar comments. 

Sherlock stood, stretching like a giant cat as he made his way to his room. Maybe this was it. Maybe he had now found the perfect balance. Someone who could exert control but not have unrealistic expectations or disregard the work. 

He slowly opened the door to his room. Stepping lightly as he dropped his dressing gown on the floor. John was asleep on his back, his breathing was quiet and shallow, an arm under his pillow and the other at his side over the covers. 

Slowly, Sherlock pulled one end of the covers and slipped in. His changing positions and fidgeting must have woken John slightly who stirred and swiftly wrapped his arm around the taller man's thin waist. With a strong tug John pulled Sherlock to him. The detective's upper back against his chest. The doctor sighed as he nuzzled the back of Sherlock's neck and hair. 

"Mmm-what time is it?" John mumbled as Sherlock placed his hand over the other man's on his stomach. 

"12:15..." Sherlock responded. He felt John smile into the back of his neck and plant a kiss there. 

"Good boy..." John mumbled sleepily.

Sherlock's body went stiff. He was good. He went to bed before 4am. John approved, called him good. He flushed at the patronising phrase and the memory of feeling so complete at being anyone's good boy. 

John swore mentally. He wasn't meant to say that. He was sleepy, not really thinking. Feeling Sherlock suddenly freeze made him back track slightly.

"Sherlock I didn't mean to-" John began apologetically.

"It's fine." Sherlock said in a rush turning his face shyly towards his pillow slightly. Mumbling into it he spoke quietly. "I-I like it."

John tried not to laugh at such unexpected bashfulness from the detective. 

"Ok. That's good." John planted more small kisses on the back of Sherlock's neck and pulled him closer. It wasn't long before they both fell asleep.

 

 

John woke to an empty bed. Stretching as he got used to waking up in Sherlock's bed, he stood. He hadn't slept that well in a long while. Sleeping with another person always made his nights easier. Even the strange dreams and nightmares weren't as bad. 

He sorted himself out. Feeling fresh and minty he walked into the living room. His detective no where to be found. John stopped for a moment processing what he had just said in his head. 'His detective'. Rubbing his hair and putting the kettle on he sighed. He had always been a bit possessive in his relationships, though this felt a bit early. Then again, he has always been a bit possessive with the detective. 

John sat in his chair, sipping his tea. He smiled into his paper remembering the night before. Sherlock had been a good boy and come to bed early. His positive response to John's slip up really made the doctor feel something warm in his chest. It was the same feeling he got when he dominated his partners. Not all of his partnerships were D/s, but those that were really left him feeling fulfilled. A loud bang from the front door jarred him from his thoughts. The loud rustling of shopping bags came into the living room. 

Sherlock stood proudly in front of John, placing his many shopping bags on the floor next to his armchair. 

"Good morning, John." 

"Mornin'." The Doctor sipped his tea. "The kettle is hot if you fancy a cuppa."

"Don't mind if I do." Sherlock said cheerfully as he pecked John on the cheek on the way to the kitchen. Grabbing himself a cup he went back to his chair and sat down. 

"So what's all this then?" The blond asked as he looked over his paper.

"Shopping."

"I see that." John nodded. "Just asking because that looks like a clothes shop. Wondering how you managed that before 8:30am, when all those shops are usually closed."

Sherlock smiled. "You're right. I needed new clothes, but I dislike the crowds that shopping generates. So I went to a designer friend of mine and purchased a couple of his pieces."

"So you just popped out at the crack of dawn for some couture?" John sniggered.

The detective raised an eyebrow. "I'm just surprised you know what couture is."

Tutting the doctor replied. "I don't live under a rock Sherlock. And I have dated gay men before."

"If you've dated stylish gay men before why do you dress like that? Your wardrobe consists of solely cardigans and jumpers?"

"I happen to like my jumpers. Just because I've dated stylish gay men before. It doesn't mean I have to dress the same." John folded his paper and placed it on the small table next to him. What was with Sherlock giving him so much lip about his wardrobe? He rubbed his eyes with one hand. "How do you know this designer?"

Opening and rummaging inside one of the bags Sherlock spoke. 

"It was for a case. I went undercover as a model for one of his runway shows. There was a serial killer who was torturing and killing male models." Pulling out a small box he handed it to John, who took it apprehensively. "Here I got you four new ties that match your new suit."

"Oh right, thanks." 

"The killer was simple enough to catch. Gaston was very pleased with my work on the case. Though I think he liked my runway work better. He always keeps suits I like now. I call him once in a while and ask him to set things out for me to pick up. I don't usually grab them this early but it's London fashion week right now."

"Right." John tried not to laugh. "His name is 'Gaston'?"

"Yes." Sherlock said humourlessly.

"'Course it is." The doctor finished his tea. "So this award ceremony? What time is it?"

"I'm not going."

"Yes you are."

"Why?" Sherlock questioned like a petulant child asking why he had to go to school.

"Because you should."

"Are you telling me to go, or suggesting it?"

"I suppose I am telling you." John held eye contact with Sherlock until the detective glanced away to his tea cup.

"Are you coming with me?"

"Would you like me to?" The blond questioned back.

"Yes." Sherlock nodded once and stood. With a great sigh he spoke again. "Get that suit back on John. It's at 10pm, but I need to drop our blood samples at a clinic around 9."

"Our blood?" The doctor looked up shocked. 

"I took your blood while you were sleeping and some of mine for testing." Sherlock picked up his phone and typed furiously. "I knew for a fact that we would probably have sex soon, however I also know you and how careful you are. Being a doctor and such. You wouldn't want to do anything with fluid exchange unless you knew we were both tested. So I did you the honours." Finishing his text he looked up and with as much vocal fry he spoke. "You're welcome." 

John's eyebrows almost touched his hairline at the speech. Yes it was convenient, but a bit embarrassing hearing the phrase 'fluid exchange' so early in the morning. He could feel his face a bit heated as he stood up. 

"Right. Yeah." He pursed his lips. "Don't know how I feel about you taking my blood without my consent." He continued with a laugh. "But it's true, what you said. Very pragmatic of you I suppose."

"I always think ahead." Sherlock said boredly as he began walking to his room, texting furiously again. "Get ready John we have to go." The detective shouted from his room. 

 

 

They dropped their blood samples at a laboratory that Sherlock had used before. John assumed he had saved someone or solved some sort of crime. Though it turned out that he and Salma were junkies together and Sherlock had insisted she do a chemistry degree since she already knew so much. Now she was in charge of her own laboratory and did impromptu samples for Sherlock upon request. 

St. Margaret's Home was only about 20 mins away on the taxi. When they pulled up Lestrade was waiting for them. 

"Slow crime day then?" Sherlock drawled as he approached the detective inspector.

Lestrade clenched his jaw and spoke stiffly. "I was asked to make an appearance. Now please if you could not be... You know." He raised his hands in a flappy guestured at Sherlock. "Difficult. It would be great."

John chuckled while Sherlock huffed. "I'm never difficult." 

Lestrade sighed, walking them into a small hall. "No you're right, you're just delightful..."

The ceremony was brief. Sherlock received a small plaque which would later be installed at the entrance of the building. The detective couldn't look more bored if he tried. John looked on amused as about 14 old ladies cooed and fussed over the tall man. Who kept glancing at John in some sort of SOS.

"So how are you two?" Lestrade asked handing John a cup of coffee.

"Good. We're good." The doctor reassured. "Why?"

"Nothing really. Just thought there was a different vibe between you two." The D.I sipped his drink and continued. "When I got wind of two people injured at what would have been a university reunion and a simple case, I was a little... Surprised." 

"They fell."

"How many times?"

"Not enough." The doctor rated flatly, turning his attention to the tall detective who was being hugged round the middle by two eldry women.

Lestrade laughed. "I'm sure they deserved it."

"Oh they did."

Sherlock was able to break free from the elderly pile up and made his way to John, rubbing a sore cheek from all the pinching. 

"Let's go home now." The detective demanded. He looked at John who raised an eyebrow. "Please." He added hurriedly. 

John tried not to smile. 

"Sister Anne wants to give you a gift. You can't refuse a gift from a nun." Lestrade explained, watching Sherlock suspiciously at the added 'please'.

"Why does her choice of profession make her unrefusable?" The detective sulked. 

"Sherlock just do it and get it over with." John spoke sternly. 

Sherlock stared at him defiantly but when the doctor held his gaze he looked away. 

"Fine!" The detective plastered on a fake smile as he saw people approaching. The lady was chubby and had a friendly face. Her bright green eyes were very pretty. Sister Anne, sherlock deduced. In her hands she was carrying a small box. 

"Hello Mr Holmes." She smiled up at him. He smiled back charismatically. "On behalf of all of the residents here, I would like to give you one last thanks for all the wonderful work you have done. Some of the residents pitched in to get you a gift." Sister Anne handed him the gift gratefully. 

Sherlock took the box and shook it slightly. Leaning to John he spoke.

"It's a cravat. I don't wear cravats..." 

John wanted to hide with embarrassment. An image of him throwing the lanky detective over his knee popped into his mind. Firmly John placed a hand on Sherlock's back and spoke with a commanding voice.

"Just say thank you, Sherlock." 

Sherlock shivered at the touch to his back and stood up a little straighter. Sister Anne looked between them amused as the detective spoke.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome dear." She smiled pleasantly. 

 

The cab ride home was quiet but it didn't bother Sherlock. Who spent the whole time typing away on his phone and making phone calls to his homeless network. 

John wasn't upset with Sherlock. Not really. This is was typical behaviour. He'd have a word but nothing else. 

The doctors thoughts soon changed to his own reunion on Friday. They were expected to wear their uniforms which John found to be both exciting but also a bit of a hassle. He would have to check if it even still fit. Dry clean it. Polish his medals and shoes. 

"Our results came back negative." 

John was jarred out of his mental checklist. 

"What?"

"Our blood work John." Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed in his 'I am surrounded by idiots,' kind of way. "We're both clean."

The doctor nodded as he swallowed thickly. 

"Right. Good." He looked at the taxi driver to see if he had heard their conversation. "That's good. Very fast."

"Indeed." The tall man continued his tirade on his phone as if nothing had happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time writing smut, so please be gentle.

 

The rest of the day went by slowly. Sherlock delved into his mind palace, refused to eat dinner and all tea offerings. John spent the rest of his evening catching up with his medical journals. He called his mum to see how she was doing. He didn't call her often so he felt like he should make more of an effort. 

Soon, after a long argument and an eventual order on John's part, they were both in bed. Sherlock sulked for a bit due to being sent to bed early. The doctor ignored him, making sure to not touch him. He knew what he was doing. This was behaviour correction, and he knew that Sherlock would have noticed. In the end, he didn't mind Sherlock's behaviour. Though even when they were just friends, he just wouldn't engage with Sherlock while he threw a tantrum. The doctor would just ignore him and he would eventually come around.

With a stroppy sigh and a slamming of an arm against the mattress, Sherlock threw himself over to John's side. Throwing an arm and leg around his doctor he thrust his face against the masculine neck. He felt John wrap his arms around him and stroke his back. After a few kisses sleep came to them almost instantly.

The doctor woke to what he would assume was going to be their usual empty bed. The detective was always an early riser. 

Walking into the kitchen he found the tall man draped over the magnifying glass with experiments spread out across the entire table. The detective didn't speak to him all morning. Ignoring questions and requests. Annoyed John gave up and left him to it. 

John soon left for his shift at the clinic. The six hours went by slowly. He dropped Sherlock a couple of funny texts about work, but received no replies. Though his phone had told him the detective had seen the messages. Was he ignoring him? The doctor wasn't ever insecure about text back speed, or response time. Though being ignored all morning and now this?

John got home to the silent treatment. Sherlock was experiencing a colossal sulk of the century spread out on the sofa, dressing gown enveloping him as if he were a giant bird, wrapped in his own wings.

John left him to it. His work day was less than pleasurable, and his patience was almost non existent. So his evening consisted of him exiling himself to his room. He nervously remembered his reunion and decided to focus on polishing his shoes and medals in preparation for later that week. He unearthed his dog tags, rolling the circular discs in his hand thoughtfully. The army had been tough but he had fond memories. He remembered the friendships he had cultivated, the sense of brotherhood. He thought back to his relationships while in the army. There had been many conquests however there were a few that always stood out in his mind.

First there was Claire who was a weapons expert. She was so strong, smart, witty and was definitely the best poker player in camp. They didn't date for long. About three months. Not because they fell out or anything, however maintaining a relationship when you're in and out of camp, in and out of battle was hard. Even for a professional.

Then there was the Iranian male nurse. Amar's olive skin and bright brown eyes drew John in. They kept things casual.

Amar would always tell him that in the end, he wanted to get married to a woman and have a family. John respected that and never expected more than what was truly realistic.

As a bisexual man himself he sometimes wondered how he would split his preference. He wasn't an expert on sexuality, so he was probably wrong to think of it this way. He had always wanted kids when he was younger, and if he had to, would split his sexuality to 55% lean to women and a 45% lean to men. With women he could (with more ease) have kids that are genetically half him. The thought however felt selfish. Like passing down his genetics was some sort of ego project despite all the children out there who already needed parents. Though he would never object to adoption if he were in a samesex relationship. He guessed that for Amar, an Iranian living in Afghanistan, culturally it would be much more complicated for him to be with a man, as well as adopt a child.

Amar was incredibly kind hearted and had an amazing sense of humour. Though John had to eventually distance himself from the nurse. He felt like he was getting too attached to that beautiful dead end that was Amar.

So John slept around a lot. Men and women. A variety of races, cultures and ethnicities. He wasn't very picky though he always lucked out. Not one of those people did he ever fall out with nor did he ever come to dislike them. They were always strong smart and generally decent.

Though this is when John had begun to notice a pattern. He liked strong people who would submit to him in bed. John had never done any hard drugs, but the rush that taking control from someone gave him was probably similar to a high. As he continued dating he realised he liked having a certain amount of control not just in the bedroom. Nothing crazy, nothing public. But more in the small things that reminded his partners who they belonged to. Sure he didn't really own anyone, but the mind game is what drove him insane.

Then Sholto happened. James Sholto was the first person John let his guard down for. They were together for two months. (Which in army terms is a long term relationship). He let Sholto take the lead. Let himself be dominated. He didn't mind it at first, always being open to try something new. Though after a while he had become defiant, disobedient and almost aggressive. Eventually Sholto had confronted him and asked for a break to 'sort things out'. John agreed and confessed that even though he loved him, he couldn't be something he wasn't. Sholto was understanding and they continued as close friends.

John placed his dog tags around his neck as he grabbed his uniform and dusting it slightly with a shake, he laid it out on the bed. Undressing quickly he worried. What if he was too fat now? He shook his head. This was the best shape the doctor had been in years because of all the working out he's been doing and running after Sherlock. He briskly dressed himself in the uniform as if the speed of his dressing made a difference in the fit.

Latching the belt at his waist, he turned to his mirror. Staring hard at his reflection he let out a huge breath in aliviation at the perfect fit. It was a tiny bit tight at the shoulders but the fit was pretty much perfect. A feeling rose in his stomach. He looked good. He felt how he did last time he wore this. Strong, powerful, dangerous. Lost in his own thoughts of self admiration he didn't notice the steps coming up the stairs.

A small sigh from the door made him turn his attention to its origin. Sherlock stood there eyes bearing into him. The tall mans gaze dragged up and down the doctor. The detective could feel arousel build in his groin as he took in the image of the captain. There was his usually soft, fluffy, gentle doctor, who always hid a dangerous military captain and marksman, beneath all that wool. Now the image of his doctor before him was the inverse. He looked like stone. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably from side to side in hopes to ease the discomfort in his trousers. The detective could feel his face get hot as he thought back to when John pulled rank. That memory had brought back a visceral reaction to his younger self. A teenager who would read too many military magazines. He would tell mummy that he was just interested in the army. However in reality, he would touch himself and imagine sucking the cock of a man in uniform.

Raising an eyebrow at this unusual display of awkward shuffling, John cleared his throat, interrupting the detective's thoughts.

Sherlock stuttered slightly, unable to find the words straight away.

"You're going in uniform to your reunion." He swallowed loudly. It wasn't a question. Just a statement.

"Yes." John watched as Sherlock did something incredibly rare. An intense blush began from his collar to his hairline. So the Sherlock Holmes had a military kink. Of course he did. He stifled a chuckle as the detective remained frozen at the door. "Like what you see?" John said standing up a little straighter, hands at his aides, legs shoulder width apart.

"Yes..." Sherlock said quickly.

John hesitated slightly before he spoke again. "Yes what?" He asked wondering what Sherlock would say.

"Yes.... sir?" The detective asked tilting his head slightly in confusion. He watched the shorter man's face to see if his deduced answer was correct.

John tried to stifle a low growl in his throat and failed. He didn't really know why he had asked that. He was expecting just a 'Yes, John', not so much a title.

"John, is fine for now. We haven't talked about all that yet."

Sherlock stepped stiffly into the room as he took in a deep breath.

"I want to suck your cock John." He demanded casually. His tone neutral as if he was making an everyday statement.

The doctor swallowed thickly, feeling pressure increase in his formal dress trousers.

"Sherlock, we don't have to go this fast."

"I'm not a virgin! I won't break." The tall man said throwing his hand in the air exasperated.

"I know but those things that happened..." The doctor spoke cautiously.

"They're over with. I have closed that part of my life. So stop treating me like some sort of girl, being deflowered!"

John stood in silence searching in the detectives eyes for any sign of deceit or hesitation. Though all he saw was unfamiliar arousal in those cat like eyes. Sherlock was right. He couldn't treat him with kid gloves. He was a grown man. Yet John was hesitant. This wasn't you're average grown man. This was Sherlock. His mind just worked differently.

"So you're sure?" The doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Yes!!! Fuck sake!" Sherlock stomped with impatient anger. He was getting tired of John's molly coddling. He wanted this. It has been so long and the army doctor in front of him was the only person on this idiot filled Earth that he would want to touch and to have touch him.

"Oi! Watch your tone." John cortected more playfully than anything, surprised at the swear word. So unlike Sherlock. The detective stood stiffly at the faux scolding. Misreading the tone probably by the strange look on his face. The uniformed man's face wasn't hard, showing more warning and warmth than anything.

"What will you do about it?" Sherlock challenged as a smirk crossed his face. So this was the game? He liked those... If John wanted him to, he could play along.

"Come here Sherlock." The doctor's tone wasn't one that left much room for debate. Flattening his uniform against himself, he stood up straighter. His military pose enabled as he saw Sherlock take a hesitant step towards him. Like an unsure animal the detective prowled towards him. He could see the change in the detective. He had obviously analysed the situation and was 'play acting'. John found this slightly irritating but just made a mental note to find out how to bring down the detective's walls.

Standing close the detective lifted a hand to brush lightly at the medals on John's uniform.

"Are these all your medals?" Sherlock asked curiously, staring down at each one. He tried to deduced what they were but despite his teenage enthusiasm for military magazines it was  just material to look at. He didn't have time for useless information like that.

"No I have more."

"I want to know what they are for. Captain."

The shorter man watched as long fingers stroked around the crown engraving. The captain looked up, watching as the detective bit his lip seductively, letting out a slow breath as another hand came up to rest on the shorter man's shoulder.

John growled at the title and leaned up, bringing their lips together roughly. They both moaned as tongues danced hotly. Strong hands grabbed at Sherlock's behind, pulling him closer. Rutting slightly against each other. The detective pushed at the blond's chest, pulling away he asked breathlessly, while John continued to kiss his neck ravenously. He could sense Sherlock become more pliant under his touch.

"Why didn't you make a move yesterday?"

John pulled back and looked up with raised eyebrows. Sherlock had dropped his act and wore a look of genuine curiosity and disappointment. Questioning eyes met his.

"So that's what you've been sulking about?"

Sherlock said nothing, his gaze relentless.

"I wasn't sure what kind of pace we were going for here."

The detective rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well I told you we were clean."

John tilted his head in question.

"Was that you letting me know that you were ready?" The tall man didn't respond. "Sherlock, I'm sorry, but I'm not as clever as you. I need you to actually tell me these sorts of things." John spoke calmly with a smile. 

"Clearly...." Sherlock smiled.

John's face turned into a smirk with a raised brow. "Alright. So you want to suck my cock then?"

Sherlock nodded as he raked his eyes up and down the uniformed man, licking his lips.

"Words please."

"I told you I wanted to suck your cock didn't I?" The detective sassed as if a response was an incredible chore.

John chuckled as he moved a hand to hold the back of Sherlock's hair, tightly but not enough to hurt. The tall man squirmed slightly and John could feel his erection pressing against his lower stomach. Of course he liked this. John made a mental note to be rough in the future. However today he would hold back. Conversations need to be had, limits need to be placed out in the open.

"You never said please."

"...please." Sherlock hesitated, then spat out the word as if it annoyed him.

"Hmm, we'll work on that tone is of yours another time I think." John hummed. "Well go on then! You can't suck my cock from up here Sherlock."

As John took a small step back, Sherlock fell to his knees without hesitation, hands instantly going to the front of the dress trousers. Making easy work of the zip and the button when with one hand John grabbed the detective's wrist.

"Actually... No games tonight, Sherlock. Not yet ok?" Sherlock looked up at him with his usual all seeing clever eyes, yet they were hooded with what John assumed was lust. "We need to talk about all that first." John said as he ran a hand through dark curls, his hold on the thin wrist persisted.

The detective closed his eyes at the tender pet. He nodded as he opened his eyes glancing at the hold on his hand. With a shake he threw John's hand off of his wrist, smirking up at him.

Those cat eyes combined with those beautiful lips contorted into a cheeky smirk sent a shiver down John's back. Sherlock hooked his fingers and tugged at the pants and trousers, letting them fall to the floor with a clatter as the heavy belt hit hardwood. Kneeling up straight he came face to face with the head of John's hard cock.

John wasn't ashamed or embarrassed by his body in the slightest. Sure it wasn't the fit 20 something body he used to have, but for his age he felt confident. However it was a bit unnerving to have Sherlock still wearing his dressing gown and lounge trousers, while he was pantless. Suddenly he felt quite silly wearing just the upper half of his military uniform.

He unbuckled his waist belt and let it drop to the floor as he felt a wet tongue circle the head of his cock. He groaned at the gentleness of the touch. Glancing down he was met with those bright eyes staring up at him, while that soft tongue continued to taste him. The doctor began to unbutton the top part of his uniform when cold air came into contact with the head of his cock. The detective had pulled back, his large hand resting on the blond's shaft.

"Don't take it off." Sherlock demanded. Then, feeling a bit strange making demands from his current position he added. "Or at least keep it on if you must unbutton it."

John grinned down at the detective who's hand began to move on his cock. He undid a couple of buttons and nodded.

"Alright." The doctor reached forwards and stroked the detective's face as he watched his cock disappear into that handsome mouth. Moaning, John concentrated on not thrusting. He ran his fingers through those lovely dark curls, holding on in encouragement.

Sherlock closed his eyes in concentration as he bobbed his head. He reached up to play with John's testicles as he took him in deeper into his throat. The detective felt overwhelmed as he choked, coughing and spluttering. Slightly embarrassed he continued pumping John's cock as he looked up, only to see a grin from the doctor. The captain tightened his grip on detective's hair and brought his mouth back to his cock.

"Don't stop because of a little choke. You take it so well." John growled as he felt his cock reach the back of Sherlock's throat. 

Sherlock groaned at the praise as he felt his own cock leak a bit of pre-cum, making a wet stain on his trousers. He enthusiastically picked up the pace. He felt the temperature of his face increase as he felt spit roll onto his chin when John began to fuck his mouth. Sherlock noted how the doctor took care to fuck his face but not too roughly. Not enough for him to gag.

He could feel that John was close. The detective felt lost in the scent of his doctor, and the pleased sounds he was making. Bringing his own hand to the front of his pyjamas, palming at his own cock lightly.

Sherlock felt a shiver run up and down John.

"I'm... coming... Urgh. Sherlock."

Sherlock sped up his ministrations. How typical of John. Always the gentleman to let him know he was coming instead of just doing it. The detective groaned as John spilled into his mouth. The taste was salty as he remembered it, but not unpleasant. Pulling back Sherlock let John's softening cock fall out of his mouth. With the back of his hand he wiped his face looking up into John's half lidded eyes.

John stroked Sherlock's hair and cheek as he caught his breath.

"Get on the bed." The detective stood. It didn't sound like an order but he was curious to see what John would actually do. "Let me... Give you a hand."

They kissed and sniggered at the cheesy pun, as John manoeuvred the detective onto the bed. As he fell he pulled his trousers right off of him.

"I see your moves are better than your jokes." Sherlock grinned up at him as his cock bounced free against his belly.

John took a moment to admire the detective. All hard lines, muscles and lanky body. His milky white skin looked soft to touch.

"My jokes are great." John licked his lips as he undid the uniform top, letting it fall to the floor. His dog tags clattered quietly against his skin. He placed a hand on both of Sherlock's knees, spreading his legs and stepping between them.

He ran his hand up the long legs, then his sides, resting on Sherlock's chest. John gently pinched the pink nipples under his fingers, the detective let out a  low moan. The tall man's cock jumped as John continued to play with his nipples. Leaning forwards the doctor kissed his neck and down his chest. He looked down at Sherlock's very hard leaking cock, then back up to his face which was flush and eyes hooded. 

"You're so sensitive." John thought out loud. He was starting to get hard again watching Sherlock like this. Sherlock looked at him with lustful annoyance in an attempt to hurry John up.

"Alright! Alright!" John grinned. "No more teasing then. Move up please."

John moved back so that the detective could move his body more onto the bed. The doctor climbed on top of the detective, laying kisses all over him as he settled in between Sherlock's legs. He grasped the weeping cock and began pumping gently as Sherlock let out a loud groan.

The detective brought his hands up to touch John's shoulders, stroking sweetly but slightly awkwardly at the strong back. Sherlock circled the scar of the exit wound from the bullet on John's shoulder. The doctor stayed still so that he could touch it.

"The person who did this, are they dead?" Sherlock asked with an edge to his voice.

"I don't know." John shook his head and  planted kisses on the detective's face. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's war. There are casualties." The captain pulled back looking at Sherlock's face. The dark haired man was staring into his eyes, brows curving up wards subtly in some sort of concern. Sherlock's hands come to either side of John's face cupping tenderly. He pulled him into a passionate and desperate kiss. Their tongues touched and Sherlock pulled at John's lower lip with his teeth.

The blond pulled back and began planting kisses down that slim body. Taking a moment to put a nipple in his mouth and bite.

Looking down at his doctor Sherlock watched as he moved down to align his mouth and his cock. The dark haired man groaned as he watched his cock disappear into his mouth. The combinations of John's mouth on him and the taste of the doctor's cum on his tongue had him so close already. It had been years since he had slept with some one.

John worked Sherlock's cock with his mouth. Stroking up and down those long legs, he then brought a hand up to the detective's perineum. He knew he was close, pressing lightly he worked his mouth faster. Glancing up he saw Sherlock close his eyes tightly and hands fist the covers underneath him aggressively.

With a shout of John's name, Sherlock's body stiffened as he felt waves of pleasure leave him. Releasing into the good doctor's mouth.

John swallowed, savouring the taste. He pulled back and with his thumb he wiped his lower lip.

Sherlock lay soft and pliant on the bed, as if he were sinking into the soft fabric. He kept his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling. John leaned over him, planting kisses on his face and neck.

"I'm just going to grab us some water. Why don't you get into bed?"

"But this is your bed." Sherlock said dismissively.

John put on some pyjama bottoms and spoke as he picked up his uniform and hung it.

"What's wrong with my bed? It's all clean."

"Cleanliness and orderliness is not the issue here, John. The bed is military pristine." The detective rubbed his hands over the fabrics pulled tight around the mattress. "It's the fact that it's small."

John smirked as he walked to the door.

"We can cuddle up close..." He teased.

Sherlock groaned loudly as he moved up the bed, thrusting his face into the pillows. "Not that word again!" His voice muffled by the pillow, though John was already downstairs turning taps and filming glasses.


End file.
